KotOR II: After the Credits Rolled
by darthspock
Summary: The happenings of the Ebon Hawk's crew—Atton Rand, Mira, Mical (the Disciple), T3-M4, Mandalore, Bao-Dur, Visas Marr, G0-T0, HK-47, and the Exhile, Aneela—after the credits rolled. Starts at the Trayus Academy and works outward. FINISHED.
1. Trayus Academy Rescue

"Augh!" was the last sound Aneela heard as she could barely keep herself awake, for she was so exhausted. Relief flooded over Aneela as she was lying down as she saw the lifeless body of her tormentor and teacher, the one who helped her reconnect herself with the Force.

_Must…make…it through this_, Aneela thought to herself as she heard a sudden rumbling. The mass shadow generator was activated.

She moaned; marks from her final battle with Traya were evident. Her pain harassed her, telling her to stay in her current positions. Her instincts argued that she would die. Aneela ignored both and sat up. Halfway between her pain and gut, she realized she was going to die in this place. Then, a rock fell a few yards from her head.

She began to panic. _What am I going to do_, Aneela thought to herself, almost wishing she said it aloud so she could feel like someone was dying with her. She lay back down, giving in to her pain. "Die here, if I must…" she said slowly to herself as she closed her eyes and felt small rocks fall on top of her crumpled, tired body.

Memories flooded her head. She remembered when she was about six, barely trained in the Force, she had visited a beach on a planet long forgotten. It was a pebble beach with many stones, and she remembered keeping one with a large hole in it to remember the day. She still had the stone pre-Mandalorian Wars, but it was long gone and, she guessed, was probably at some vendor's small stand selling for something about five credits, saying that it was a stone from an unknown planet, but it was just a simple pebble that could be found anywhere. Half of the items at a vendor's stand had unknown origins, meaning it was probably lost and then found by a child and given to a parent as a birthday present. Then, the parent sold it in desperation for credits and it was passed along a few years, from child to child, each figuring out that its so-called magical powers was nothing, and that they were conned into buying such a valueless piece of junk.

Aneela also recalled her final moments before the trial with the Jedi Council. She remembered waiting on an uncomfortable chair in a strange room that smelled of Wookiees and spice. She then stopped herself before recalling the trial, which was probably one of the worst days of her entire life.

Then the crew came into her mind. They were on Dantooine, and all were sitting on a hill outside Khoonda. The entire group was smiling and warming themselves by a fire, despite it was still half-light out. Atris was even present, despite her hatred for the Exile and her falling. The entire group was joyful: Mical was buried in a book, like always, but had a sense of peace brought to him; Mira was sitting beside Bao-Dur, and both were teaching the other in their "specialties"; Mandalore was sitting beside G0-T0, one of the least favorite party members, and it seemed they were talking about some kind of war; Visas was amusing herself by conversing with Atris about something—history was Aneela's guess—by the way Atris was talking the most and Visas intently listening; and Atton was sitting by himself, playing Pazaak with a big book next to him titled _Pazaak Tactics: Become the Next Champion Without Cheating_. T3 was bothering him by beeping, obviously wanting to play some Pazaak; the only one who wasn't present on the hilltop was HK-47, who was chasing kinrath a few hundred yards away. They all noticed Aneela standing at the bottom of the hill and looked up from their activities. They waved and beckoned her to come up and join them.

"Uhhhhhhh…." Aneela moaned, realizing she wasn't on sunny Dantooine. She was on Malachor V, a cave with a permanent overcast of storm clouds and thunder but without rain. By now, most of the Trayus Academy was gone. Kreia's words echoed in her head; Aneela wondered if all the predictions would be true.

Then, she heard a faint hum of an engine, but thought she was going mad and was hearing things. Aneela closed her eyes and, at the center of the red circle in the Trayus Academy, awaited death to come upon her.

But then her plan was changed. The Ebon Hawk was coming down, and she could barely make it out since her vision was so fuzzy. _What_? was Aneela's first thoughts. As the ship neared the center of the crumbling academy, Aneela could see the Hawk's loading ramp was open.

The Hawk settled a few yards from the crumbling floor. Bao-Dur, Visas, Mical, Mira, and Mandalore were on the ramp. "Don't die yet!" Mandalore yelled, trying to win the competition between his voice's volume and the rock's. Aneela could hear him, but it seemed to be just a whisper. She was on the verge of unconsciousness.

"General!" said another whisper.

"Hey!" a feminine whisper said.

"What can we do?" said another feminine whisper.

"Aneela?" said a final voice.

She knew it was her team—her Jedi, save Mandalore. She heard voices, but she could not make out what they were saying.

On the ramp, all were perplexed. "I can't hold this thing still much longer!" Atton screamed from the cockpit. "This thing's gotta be invulnerable..." "She won't move!" Mira screamed back. "All the instruments are barely working," Atton yelled again, "and I'm going to lose control of keeping this steady."

"Hang on," Bao-Dur shouted at the Exile. He ran into the garage where he spent all of his "leisure time", but it was really when he was patching up the Hawk. Scrambling to find something to help the General, he drew a blank in the garage. He then ran into the cargo hold and threw open some boxes pushed up against the back. Most of the contents were useless things: food and water (but useful in certain occasions), a few blasters, a virbroblade, and a medpac. He then threw off a rope binding a few boxes together. He opened them up just to find them full of empty metal boxes. He eyed the rope and grabbed it hastily. Bao ran back to the ramp and threw out the rope.

"Grab it!" the four yelled in unison. Aneela was in a blur as the Trayus Academy was enclosing itself on her.

"I've got to get out!" Atton shouted.

Aneela, barely conscious, felt something on her chest and grabbed it, hoping it could spare her from a terrible death in the heart of Malachor.

* * *

"Hang on!" Atton's voice screamed over the beeping of instruments failing. "Get into the hyperdrive room and shut the door!"

Bao-Dur, Mical, Mira, Visas, and Mandalore, who was carrying unconscious Aneela, fled to the hyperdrive area along with HK-47, T3-M4, Bao-Dur's Remote, and G0-T0. The Remote and G0-T0 floated, but the rest of the crew braced themselves against the hyperdrive.

Atton put the seat strap on himself and flew the Hawk out of the Trayus Core as something resembling lime-green lava came forth right behind them. _Oh please work_... , Atton thought. A small burst of smoke erupted from the communications room. _Damn it! Hope this thing stays together._

The crew flew up against the wall of the hyperdrive area as they heard cargo shifting as well as chairs flying. They assumed the ship would be a mess afterwards, but they didn't really care about that at the present moment. Bracing themselves for something worse, they clung to each other: Visas clutched Aneela's hand, for she had saved her, and Visas hoped that although she was unconscious, she could save her again; Mandalore felt Mical and Mira grab his strong, metal armor for support as T3 flew right at them; HK-47 was flat up against the wall on top of the hyperdrive; Bao-Dur was crouched in a corner, fearing that he would be crushed. They heard the hyperdrive giving out, and feared they wouldn't make it out far enough not to be caught in the explosion and annihilation of Malachor V.

* * *

The speed and the sudden but slow stop of the Ebon Hawk startled the crew in the hyperdrive area. They still clung one another, awaiting another vertical flight. About thirty seconds passed and Mandalore wrestled free of the pile of bodies clutching his arms, for the armor was his strength. Mical spilled onto the floor; Mira used the hyperdrive as leverage as Mandalore wrenched himself free from their death grasps. He carried Aneela to the medical room and turned directly at Mical. "Examine her," he commanded, "so we know she'll pull through."

Mical looked a bit scared; he had never faced this sort of situation. His mind flashed back to when he had begun his medical training. He was just a trainee, but the doctor currently on duty was put in charge of saving a victim of an airspeeder crash. Of course, Aneela's wounds were nothing like the airspeeder victim's, but he thought of the victim's pain and sufferings. He also remembered going to the wake for the victim, and that is when he vowed to himself that a patient would never die under his care. He knew this promise could not be kept, but it made him feel better when he knew he had his own standards.

"You might want to get moving," Mira told him as she hoisted herself up off the ground. Mical stared at her, and then Mandalore laying Aneela down on the bed in the med bay. He got up and began a slow walk to the med bay. _I will keep the promise_, Mical told himself.

In the cockpit, Atton was grinning at himself. He had flown a broken-down ship out of an exploding planet. He thought it was at least worthy a few days on Nar Shadda, but decided that he'd just settle for a round of Juma Juice with the crew, but stopped himself when he thought of Mical. They were still unsettled, but they had spaced the old witch like he had wanted ever since Peragus. Atton chuckled at this thought, and watched the stars fly by; he hadn't put the ship in hyperspace yet. The scene was way too beautiful: Atton Rand had saved the day and Aneela Lopini had saved the galaxy from another evil tyrant figure. Besides, he didn't want to push the hyperdrive, but he liked to think he was admiring "the moment".

He stared at the Pazaak cards in the copilot seat, and wondered when he would be able to play Pazaak with Aneela again. He knew that the entire crew was going to be at her aid and she would needn't be immersed in transparent oaths of servant hood ("I will do anything you ask," one says, or "Your wish is my command," another will tell her) or anyone wanting to help her for awhile. And for the first time in his life, Atton truly smiled. He felt victorious for helping in something big—bigger than he could've imagined.

Mical fumbled the computer to run a diagnostic. His skills and teachings seemed to be failing him. Mandalore leaned against the doorway, watching Mical grope his way round the med bay, trying to figure out what to do next. "Don't press any wrong buttons," Mandalore remarked as he got up. "I'm going to check on the rest of the crew."

Mical felt stupid. _I'm no child_, he thought. "Who put you in charge?" he asked, surprised at himself. Then he mumbled the Jedi Code to himself and calmed down. "Someone's got to be," Mandalore replied simply, "and I've got firsthand experience when medical technicians go wrong. There was a big mess to clean up so watch yourself." He turned to leave but added, "You might want to look at the rest of the group. They seem a bit dysfunctional at watching an entire planet be blown up." "And you have?" Mical asked. "If you knew my history," Mandalore said, slightly advancing upon Mical, "you might know what happened. Whenever I think of the backwater, cesspool planet I saw annihilated, I think of the terrible times I had there, scraping round to make a living." At that, he turned at walked away. Mical resumed his work, pondering the Mandalorian's words.

The engine room was now empty, for the entirety of the crew, except T3 and Bao-Dur, was out in the main hold. Mira and Visas were sitting in the chairs, and the rest of the team stood. Everyone was quiet, save Bao-Dur and T3 in the engine room and the beeping of the computers in the med bay, where Mical was furiously working. A faint sound of computers could be heard from the cockpit, where Atton was repairing his instruments. The entire crew, together, had a strange sort of fellowship seeping from them.

Mira was garbed in green Jedi robes, which she wasn't adapted to. She had worn a skimpy top and her ballistic jacket with long pants and boots most of her time on Nar Shadda. Visas was always wearing her armor, but there was some sort of difference between it now and when she had first invaded the Hawk: it was torn in several places and the golden stitching on her headpiece and robes was wearing away. Dirt was evident on the bottom of her robes and armor that seemed to flow. Mandalore was wearing his full armor body, the armor that the entire crew seemed to hang on to for dear life. He even had said himself the implants only kept him alive, but he was puzzled at what kept him going. Was it the reuniting of the clans? Was it finding Revan or finding out where she had traveled to, all those years ago? All the droids were dirty and were in need of being cleaned. Usually Atton got this job, for he was caught stealing food on a couple of occasions when Aneela was out trying to find another Jedi master. Mandalore, who usually stayed on the ship, trying to contact the clans and the HQ on Dxun, put him in charge of washing the droids so they "shined like Manaan's water" and were "as dry as Tatooine" when he was finished. Atton had heard of such places, but had never visited and wondered where they were and what they looked like. He knew Manaan was a water planet, but only that. He knew that Tatooine was a desert planet, but only that.

The crew could hear sounds of the hurrying of Mical through the small room of the med bay. He was gathering bandages and setting diagnostics, studying reports and tests. Mical, still worried of breaking his promise, felt the rumble of the engines as Bao-Dur and T3 successfully repaired part of it. The two came out of the engine room, covered in grease. "She'll get us somewhere, but it's not permanent. I don't have the right equipment to fix her up right," Bao informed the anxious crew. T3 replied with a bunch of beeping that nobody but Bao-Dur could interpret. He replied that T3 was a great astromech droid and that without him, the ship wouldn't have been repaired.

Bao-Dur settled down in a chair on the opposite side of the main hold where Mira and Visas were sitting. He put his head on his hand and looked pensive; T3 went over to the communications room to repair the blow that Atton had heard earlier. "That's a good little droid," Bao-Dur said, trying to lighten the mood. "Takes care of whatever needs fixin' and doesn't stop working it seems. I can still hear him going about the ship in my sleep." He didn't look up as he spoke, he just let his eyes stay locked on the floor. "He was helpful," Mandalore said, obviously reminiscing.

At this, Mira looked at him. "Huh?" "I'm no idiot," Mandalore said. "This ship's been everywhere." "What's that supposed to mean?" Mira said. At this, Mandalore let out a laugh. It was the first time they'd heard him laugh in awhile. "You sound like an old crewmate, that's all," he said. Mira looked down. "So you recognize this ship?" she asked. "And you seem to look around like it's just too familiar." "Yeah," Mandalore said, "I know this ship. I know the crew quarters and its adventures five years ago." At this, nobody said anymore. They could still hear Mical working furiously in the med bay.

* * *

Everything was bright. It seemed like it had been days, years even. "Uhhhhhhhhh…" Aneela moaned. The med bay was dark and the door was shut. i Great /i , she thought, i I've got those clothes on again /i . She, indeed, was in her underwear. Remembering what happened last time she was in her underwear after a battle, it wasn't pretty. She met Kreia in a morgue, of all places.

Aneela fumbled for something to turn on a light, but only the blue, red, yellow, and orange lights of the computer consoles lit up the medical room. She then looked at her wounds: she was bruised all over, her arm was in a cast that people with sprains wear, her hand had a bandage on it, and she was patched up on various places. She was no longer dirty with the dust and ash of Malachor V on her. Her hair was down, not it's normal state of a bun and a small piece hanging out.

She pressed her ear to the door and heard voices. Aneela wished to leave badly, but she wouldn't leave without clothes. She frantically searched for a metal box or plasteel cylinder. She searched the bed for a drawer that might contain clothing. She found a bunch of medpacs that were useless to her now and few antidote kits as well as a life support pack and various medical instruments. (Aneela couldn't figure out their purposes). She searched a second drawer and brought up a strange piece of cloth that resembled a gown buried beneath books on obscure medical training: Twi'lek Birth Rituals, Skin Conditions of a Rodian, and Duros Health Anatomy. She threw the gown on and found it too big. _Oh well_, she thought.

She made sure the robe was secure as she opened the med bay doors to find the main hold was empty: Mandalore, G0-T0, and Mira were nowhere to be found. She then went to the empty crew quarters where Kreia meditated and manipulated and rummaged for some real clothes. She found a bowl of rotten fruit and a bottle of Juma in Atton's compartment as well as Pazaak magazines and about five side decks.

She threw the drawer shut and went to Mira's to find her ballistic jacket and skimpy shirt with her long pants. Knowing Mira, she would put a bounty on her head just for rummaging through her things. Aneela pushed the drawer shut.

Next was Kreia's old drawer which had nothing in it except for a virbroblade and, as a joke, a pamphlet dropped in that was entitled "The Art of Manipulation" that was handwritten and full of obscure stick people drawings. Aneela guessed this was another handiwork of Atton.

The last drawer was Bao-Dur's. She found a few neatly folded clothes full of grease and extra large shirts as well as a lot of repair parts organized and labeled in containers. She shut the drawer in dismay and went to the dormitory that Visas claimed.

Visas's dormitory was empty like the other, which left Aneela wondering where she was. She didn't give it another thought as she went to the first drawer: Mical's. Inside, were various sets of Jedi robes as well as a medical book entitled something in Twi'lek, "The Genetic Makeup of Your Twi'lek Child". Aneela stared at the book, and replaced it with a strange face.

Her next victim was Mandalore. His drawer was full of stimulants. Aneela was convinced that stims and implants kept him going, but that was just an opinion. _Don't these people own extra clothes_, she thought.

The next drawer was Visas's. It was empty. Dust gathered at the bottom. Aneela wondered what Visas slept in, what she used for money when they went to cantinas, and where she kept her other things.

She then went to her own bed, finally. She never slept in it though, for fear of Mical watching her. She also didn't sleep in the other dormitory, for fear of Atton watching her also. Flinging open the drawer, she found nothing. Dismayed, she threw it shut and went over to Mical's drawer and stole an extra Jedi robe. Although it didn't fit her right, she still wore it.

Then Aneela suddenly realized her lightsaber was missing. Now she started to panic. She threw the med bay's robes in a heap in her drawer underneath her bed and ran into the garage, hoping to find Bao-Dur or at least HK-47. Not a droid or soul was present. She rushed about the ship and even checked the cargo hold twice. Upon rushing to the cockpit, she was grateful to see Mira asleep in the communications room.

_Good_, she thought. _I'm not alone_. She walked over to Mira and tapped her on the shoulder. "Mira?" Aneela said, almost afraid of Mira angry.

Mira instantly awoke, her hand going to her holster where her lightsaber was. "Hey!" Mira said, grinning. "You're alive." "I'm hard to kill," Aneela said, smiling. She was glad Mira was there.

Aneela stared at Mira: her eyes were anxious but it was obvious she wasn't saying anything. "You want to hear it?" she asked Mira. As if a weight had been lifted and her wish granted, Mira eagerly nodded.

"Okay," Aneela said. "I was unconscious as the Hawk crashed on Malachor, and found myself on the brink of going crazy. 'I'm on Malachor V,' I told myself, 'for some reason.' I walked on and found those troublesome storm beasts…"


	2. The Crew Seperated

"…and Mandalore gave Mical harsh looks so he would step on it and hurry to the med bay," Mira concluded her account after listening to Aneela's detailed story of her confrontation with Malachor, the Trayus Academy, Darth Traya and her rescue. The two were now sharing stories over a glass of Atton's Juma.

After laughing and having a good time for about two hours, Aneela asked Mira where they were. "We're on Coruscant," Mira said. "Coruscant?" Aneela said. "This is the place of the old Jedi council. What is the Hawk doing empty here? Where is everybody? How long have I been unconscious?"

Mira set her glass of Juma down. "We knew you'd start asking these questions, and too bad the Juma didn't work," she said grinning. She grew grave and sober, a mood Aneela saw little of in Mira. "Well, Mical worked his ass just making sure he didn't accidentally kill you while he was just running simple diagnostics. We relayed messages to Atton that Mical would kill you because of his nerves so he set us into hyperspace immediately. Then the hyperdrive cut out and we had to land on Telos.

"They fixed the hyperdrive after rummaging through your stuff to get enough credits. We had to sell a lot of extra equipment to get enough money for a professional job at this. Bao-Dur's a one man army with that little droid, but the job was too much for the two of them. I remember Atton took Bao-Dur to the cantina in Citadel and they didn't come back for a few days. We didn't even ask.

"Anyways, we then decided that we'd go to Coruscant, or wherever we thought the Republic might have its HQ. We went to Coruscant first because, as you know, it's where the bigwig Jedi Council used to sit and we thought that it would be only logical if the Republic was there."

"Why were you seeking the Republic?" Aneela asked. "I'll get there," Mira said.

"Anyways, we thought the Republic might actually spare us the trouble of selling ourselves into slavery just to repair the damned ship. They also might give us free medics since you kind of killed an intergalactic threat. So, of course, it was convenient that the Republic did, in fact, have an office here. We contacted them and told them of your travels and your exile. At first they were a bunch of skeptics, but we told them that some admiral named Onasi had talked to you on Telos after you killed that freaky guy with the mask."

Aneela nodded. "So he confirmed I was 'the exile'?"

"Yep," Mira continued, "and he also gave us a nice team of repair men plus a strange old doctor. But they all knew what they were doing and they patched this baby up in no time and we've been here the entire time."

"How long was that?" Aneela asked.

"About a few weeks," Mira said. Noticing the surprised look on Aneela's face, she added, "It was because of medications given to you. Even though your wounds weren't life threatening, the meds—drugs, stims, whatever they were—really put you out like ol' doc said they would."

"Where is everybody?" Aneela asked, knowing she was stating the obvious.

"Out, I guess," Mira said. "Weird, huh? I'm just stuck doing Mical's busywork for some spare credits. Sometimes, we've got the entire dormitory filled, but that's only happened once. Mandalore's usually gone, Atton leaves for the day, Mical is never seen except at late night hours, the Miraluka never sleeps, it seems, and Bao-Dur is working for some schutta at a droid shop somewhere."

* * *

The cantina at Coruscant always seemed to be packed in the bar area but the rest of the floor by the tables was usually clear enough for a few people to walk in a row. It was a dark green color and resembled the Telos cantina. Neon lights were everywhere, and the waiting staff, droids included, was well in the twenties.

The patrons were garbed in normal street clothes, looked like travelers, semi-important diplomats, or Pazaak players. But one patron was different. He was wearing the customary robes of the Jedi; nobody paid much attention to him, despite his attire. He was tall, thin, and looked as if he hadn't had a good night's sleep in a few days because of worry. His dark brown hair was messy and uncombed, and his brown eyes looked at his untouched Juma at the bar.

"Need somethin', kid?" the bartender, a Duros, asked in Basic. "What's yer trouble?"

"It's nothing," he said and stared into the Juma.

"You got a name?" the Duros asked.

"Atton," he said.

"Why are ya wearin' Jedi robes?" the Duros asked him. "Ya one of those Jedi?"

Atton nodded. "My master is unwell. She's been unconscious for a few weeks and everyone who knows her is worried." He looked at the Duros and then at the Juma Juice. He gave himself a subtle shrug and took a shot of it. "Another Juma." The bartender gave Atton a look that was half quizzical, half caring, and poured him the Juma in another glass.

_My master_, he thought. _Oh Atton Rand, what was that_!

Then a beeping came from a pack he had slung on his side for as long as could remember. He opened it up and brought out a comlink. His eyes widened at the message and grinned. He drank the Juma in one gulp and laid a few credits on the bar. He thanked the bartender and left.

* * *

The library where Mical found himself most of his days on Coruscant was old and full of volumes just waiting to be opened and read. He had finished the first row on the first shelf in about two days with constant study and reading. He made sense of old words and what the old accounts and narrations meant. He took notes and studied vigilantly, trying to make sense of whatever was happening in the present and what was to happen in the future.

Mical, leafing through pages, was huddled with a lantern and a pillow to sit on in a small corner that seemed to be the perfect reading place. He had a pitcher of water and a few pieces of bread with him, and that usually tied him over until he supped with the Republic soldiers stationed on Coruscant in their mess hall.

He recalled going places with Aneela. He recalled his feelings when he thought he had killed her by running tests as the Hawk wasn't going into hyperspace. Although her systems weren't failing, she was just exhausted. He believed that Kreia had mentally injured Aneela in some way, but there were limited resources in the Ebon Hawk's medlab.

He remembered landing on Coruscant—it was right after Telos. He was assigned to stay onboard with Mandalore, Visas, and the droids. The group decided that the Republic might hold a grudge against a Mandalorian and a Sith. He was shut in the med bay with Aneela as she lay sweating. This was when he believed she had been mentally harmed. Mandalore and Visas were asleep or watching the droids while awaiting the groups return.

Atton, Mira, and Bao-Dur didn't return until a day later, when they were just relaying a message that the entire crew's presence was requested. Mical reluctantly turned off the diagnostics and monitors. He led the medical team to the med bay and watched them carry off the one he vowed to save himself.

Their presence was in an Admiral Carth Onasi. He stated that he met with the Exile before she went to Malachor V. The admiral had described his meeting with Aneela briefly—he explained they both had known Revan. Throughout the entire conversation, Mandalore looked a bit strange, although his face was hidden behind his helmet that made him sound metallic, T3-M4 chirrped happily, and HK-47 said mocking statements which made the admiral only laugh.

The admiral also described they would be aided by the Republic and that they would be honored, especially Aneela, for her contribution in these recent events. It was then that Mical noticed the Cross of Glory on the admiral's uniform.

After the brief but informative meeting, Mical was going to ask Carth about his Cross of Glory; he was interrupted by the admiral calling forth Mandalore to stay after the rest were dismissed.

Mical didn't watch them for he grew tired of observing and tensions between the crewmates. He walked onwards until he found himself in a library. He might've followed signs; he had no idea for his mind seemed to be in a somewhat numb state. He was just amazed at his accomplishments._ Many things here_, he told himself, _are for the bette_r. He knew that he was going to be forced to make a sacrifice in the future—whether it be very small, almost microscopic, or very large, almost as large as the galaxy itself. He knew that his sacrifice was part of many events that would take place to make everything better, to fight for a greater good. This is why he named himself the Disciple.

His meditations were interrupted by a faint buzzing that was amplified by the silence of the old library. He rummaged through his bag of items until he fumbled his comlink. He saw the message, and like Atton did, grinned. Satisfaction of a job well done and a promise kept filled Mical as he carefully closed his book and replaced it, also packing up his supplies and picking up his lantern. He moved through the dimly lit library to the door and out into the warm sunshine.

* * *

"Beep booop dweep," a small utility droid chimed to the Iridonian mechanic. "You need an upgrade," he consoled the small droid. It was an ordinary utility droid, but an old model.

"You almost finished?" a Rodian shouted from the store front. Bao-Dur was repairing droids so fast, it seemed, that the grease on his fingers couldn't even dry; he was going from one droid to the next. _These Coruscant people have a lot of broken droids_, he thought. "You done?" the Rodian yelled again.

"Almost," Bao-Dur replied in a voice that matched the Rodian's volume. "Hurry it up!" the Rodian commanded. Bao-Dur frowned. Of all the droid repair places, he got stuck here. It was the most reliable droid merchandiser within walking distance of the Hawk.

Bao-Dur and his Remote were immediately cast off the Hawk, for it was still being repaired on Coruscant, despite its repairs on Telos where the hyperdrive was fixed. Bao-Dur even lost his Remote because the only droids allowed in Hakan's Droid Shop were fixable droids, not functional droids unless they were for sale. Bao-Dur was only "allowed to use his Remote" for emergency repair jobs, which meant never. This policy more or less annoyed Bao-Dur, probably more than Hakan himself.

Bao-Dur couldn't even figure out why he was working in the droid shop. It was by choice, for he was planning to travel back to Iridonia. He was going back to his home world.

Then a spark from the droid and a sudden shock on his right arm caused Bao-Dur to get more grease on his clothes, face, and the table where the small astromech droid he'd been repairing was placed. During his meditations and thoughts, he'd made a slight mistake that wasn't fatal to the droid, just put him back a few minutes with his expertise. He'd heard people call him almost a machine himself, and was asked how he injured his arm. He always lied about the answer, or just brushed the question off. The only thing he wanted was to end his shift so he could sulk over some Juma in the cantina.

He remembered being saddled down with the crazy droids HK-47, the assassin unit, and G0-T0, the strange droid claiming to be of Goto. He enjoyed working with the T3, for he knew it had been through a great deal and was still going. It was an old model, but fully functional with even the most advanced equipment. Bao-Dur recalled Hakan saying very flatly about the HK unit and G0-T0: "They look crazed. Lock 'em in the cells." Bao-Dur was relieved to get them off his back, but when the astromech droid was sentenced to confinement, he fought to keep it. The T3 helped him with repairs and was also a nice little companion—nobody could understand what droids who talk in "beeps" say and he had quite a memory on him, probably also due to his history.

He told Bao-Dur, in short statements, that he'd traveled many places. Of course, astromech droids weren't known for giving biographies, so Bao-Dur did most of the talking. The T3 usually talked about traveling with familiar people, and seemed the chirp cheerfully upon meeting Admiral Onasi. Bao-Dur sensed they had good history.

He tweaked the droid's functions and labeled it officially functional again. Upon handing the droid over to Hakan and back to its Ithorian owner, Bao-Dur was distracted by a beeping coming from somewhere on his tool belt. He searched the many pockets of his new "repair guy" pants (which Mira had forced onto him. "Look the part" she had told him; Bao-Dur thought they had too many pockets but Mira told him it was for keeping the tools and parts, or whatever he used) and finally found the source of the sound: a comlink given to him a few weeks ago.

After putting the comlink away with a happier feeling to him, a weightless feeling of a worry just being confirmed it will never happen, he set his tool belt down on another repairing table.

"Where are you going?" Hakan asked, his tone in the usual barking-orders manner. "To see an old friend," Bao-Dur said, smiling like Atton and Mical were. He walked into the small storage room and got the droids of the confinement, saying only, "She's woken up. Let's go."

"Ecstatic Statement: Now that master has woken up, we might travel more and terminate even more meatbags!" HK-47 said in an excited tone. _How typical…_, Bao-Dur thought as he got the T3-M4 and G0-T0. T3 was beeping and G0-T0 was silent; his Remote beeped excitedly when it saw its creator.

"You can't just leave!" Hakan screamed at his lone mechanic. "Maybe I just might," he said in a somewhat rebellious way as he shepherded the droids outside the shop. They made an odd company: an Iridonian, a strange assassin droid, an astromech that was rusted it was so old, and two large floating spheres—one very large and the other very small. All seemed to be like long-lost family going to a reunion with the one who built them all. And, the strangest thing of all, is that the Iridonian seemed to be a machine himself.

* * *

Visas was always the adventurous type in her mind. She enjoyed exploring places by herself, but enjoyed company also. But now that she was on her own, she rented an air speeder and immediately began to explore the city. Some people would stare at her as she walked down a busy street because of her headpiece. _They would like to see my eyes and know I have no sight_? she thought. She knew nobody would believe her if she told them she was a Miraluka; but what else could she be? She disregarded conversing with any Coruscant resident. She planned to walk all the streets to find someplace quiet.

The airspeeder made everything go fast by her. She enjoyed the blur and the wind on her face. Beneath her helmet and body armor on the airspeeder, she looked like a savage bounty hunter, which reminded her of Mira.

The only thing she sought on Coruscant was something she wanted everywhere: a place to meditate, somewhere where nobody could stare upon her and she could feel it. She disliked the Hawk for, almost too frequently, she could sense people looking upon her. She disregarded this because she knew it was just the security camera in her room. She knew the Exile would never watch her or that any of the male crew would. There was nothing to see—just a blinded one meditating.

She stopped the airspeeder and parked it on the side of a street that was crowded, like everything on Coruscant. She wanted to appear like a defiant individual who nobody could stare upon, but with her airspeeder armor and helmet on she appeared so out of place. _Why must I hide_? she thought. _I am a Miraluka, the last of them_.

Visas took shelter in a small alley behind some large boxes and put on her red robes and armor that she always more. She carried nothing but a comlink and a few credits. The helmet was the hardest to take off without taking off the headpiece with it. Eventually she wrestled it off and threw the armor in the helmet and strode to the airspeeder and discarded it on the seat.

Staring at gloved hands and feeling the cloth covering her eyes, she realized she was like nobody in the entire universe. This gave her a sense of warmth, for she was special and unique, and a sense of fear, for she could never have a family without them being a strange crossbreed. She didn't want to settle, and now that her travels with Aneela were over, she could keep on moving. Where would she go? What would she do? Settling after such trials and travels will be difficult, yes, but she must. She must try to settle. She would go to Katarr and meditate, or on what was left of it. If there was just a piece left of home, she would find it and sit by it and meditate, hoping for closure.

Visas didn't realize she was sitting on a stone bench until a beeping came from her robes. She dug out the comlink and got up immediately and started on the airspeeder at full speed.

* * *

It was there on the blaster—"Ordo". Mandalore ran his fingers over the engraving again, just to make sure the word was there. He ran his hand over the dent where he had banged his gun on a rakgoul and it sunk its teeth into his gun. He then held it in his hands, as if he was going to take down about six enemies in less than thirty seconds. He then looked at his helmet on the table where the gun had been. Were those times past and was Mandalore his future?

_I will always be Canderous of the Mandalorian clan Ordo_, he told himself to be reassured that he would never forget who he once was and who he always would be.

Mandalore had nothing to do until the Exile awoke. He planned on spending a day after she woke up and then would call for transport back to Dxun to command the Mandalorians once again. He would gain new recruits and dream of conquering. He would be known as the invincible Mandalore…

But then he remembered what his commanding officer told him when he was a trainee: "Dreaming of the future with you as some big hero? Well, expect disappointment." He also remembered, with a slight chuckle, what the commanding officer also had added: "Besides, dreaming of that kind of stuff if for a wuss. Now, a wuss is a soldier without honor. You will be a warrior with honor! You do not dream you future; you shape your current problem so you may gain ranks, as your teachers and commanding officers have…" Then he explained honor and the ideas of it.

Recalling the past made Mandalore break inside his armor. Sometimes it seemed he was just an empty soul in the shell of a man protected by grey armor. Whenever he remembered being a trainee, he remembered the wars—which always lead to Revan. He felt broken by her will to leave. She was his hero, despite she was so young. She knew battle like an old veteran of one hundred and fought like a skilled weapon master. She even promised lessons to Mandalore, or Canderous back then. But he thought he held her up so high because she was the only on the trust him. And that is why he also respected Revan so much—she trusted but was always on the look out for betrayal. Then she left, and Canderous never saw Revan again. But Mandalore would.

He recalled his recent past—meeting old friends. Not really friends, but companions, bonded by Revan. They were bound to Revan by her abrupt leave. He remembered meeting Admiral Onasi.

He requested Mandalore stay after the entire crew left, which didn't surprise Mandalore at all. Even though somewhat metallic-sounding, one could recognize a familiar voice.

Mandalore was the first to speak: "Did you hear of Revan?" The admiral looked at Mandalore. "No." He looked like his heart was dead and his soul was empty; his mind was filled with thoughts, memories, and worries. "It's been a number of years," Mandalore said. "Where has she gone?" "To save us," Carth said.

Mandalore knew what was going on. He still loved her and she had left him with no notice whatsoever. "If she never returns," Mandalore said, but stopped. Something happened inside of him—he felt suddenly a bit sad for Carth. He'd already lost a lot, and now it was twice.

_Many people don't lose someone twice,_ Mandalore said, _Hell, many don't even find anybody_. He chidingly thought to himself that he was being a bit too dramatic and sympathetic, but maybe being around humans with emotions was rubbing off on him? Anyways, it was too sympathetic for the leader of the Mandalorians—a brutal veteran of so many wars, he's forgotten the names and how many.

Carth changed the subject; he obviously didn't want to talk or think of his emotions. "I've got something for you," he said. He went over to a box. "So, do they call you Canderous or Mandalore?" He opened the box and threw out wrappings. "Mandalore." Carth nodded and brought out an old blaster. It was big and Mandalore had seen some Sith Commandoes carrying some blasters of its size on Dxun at the tomb. _This is significant_? he thought. _This ordinary blaster_? But as soon as Carth handed it to him, he immediately knew what it was. It was if he had been reunited with his father. It was his Ordo Repeating Blaster.

Recalling this, he remembered saving that young Twi'lek girl, Mission Vao, from kinrath on Kashyyyk after she insisted she wanted to do some exploring. After her Wookiee friend, Zaalbar, was taken to his village, she had nobody to go with her. Revan, he remembered, instructed him to accompany her into the depths of the Kashyyyk forest. _Why does everything lead to Revan_? he questioned to himself.

He wondered then what happened to the rest of the crew—Juhani, the Cathar, Jolee Bindo, the cynical old hermit, Mission Vao, the Twi'lek, Bastila Shan, the know-it-all, holier-than-you Jedi figure, or Zaalbar, the taciturn Wookiee. He already knew Carth and what happened to him, but then his mind returned to Revan.

The memories and thoughts stopped at the sound of beeping. It actually startled him, and this startled him. _I should work on this…_ he mused as he reached into a discarded bag on a chair at the table where he set his Ordo blaster. It was the comlink.

_Great, another "update" on Aneela's health—and it's probably that whacjob of a doctor_, Mandalore thought as he brought it out. Receiving the message, he felt relieved that he wouldn't lose another respectable and honorable crew master. He picked up the blaster and the bag. He walked out the door of the small empty office, stared at it for a minute, shut off the lights, and closed the door.

_

* * *

_

After telling Mira her story and listening to Mira's, Aneela went into the dormitory to rest. She didn't know why she was tired, she just knew she needed to process the information and that Mical had saved her life. She believed that she would've survived with the wounds from her confrontation with Kreia. She pondered over the recent events, shed Mical's robes she had taken and put back on the robes from the med bay and shut off the lights in the dormitory and shut the door; she fell asleep fast.

Mira saw the work she was doing for Mical laying on the desk in the communications room. Out of boredom, she wandered to Mical one day and asked if she could help him with his studies. She had no idea he'd have her proofread his notes-to-text manuscripts of complex subjects from a human liver's anatomy to complex theories that started the Mandalorian Wars. _This guy needs to make a holovid series and get someone else to do this_, Mira thought as she finished proofreading a manuscript entitled "Birth Rates of Tatooine and How they Affect Crops". She was only doing the job for Mical because he promised to pay her a few hundred credits per manuscript—credits in which Mira needed to be able to live on her own. She had no plans but to leave Aneela, her bounty, behind. She remembered saying, "Never mix work and pleasure." She loathed herself for befriending Aneela, although she didn't actually intend to. But, as she knew all too well, things never go ask you planned.

She noticed the communications console beeping away and thought she better contact the crew members with the exact same message:

"Hey, it's Mira. At about ten in the morning Aneela woke up from her unconscious state or whatever it was. Come as soon as you can—she seems a bit anxious to see everyone again. Probably by the way she ran about the ship in panic. See ya later."


	3. Times Like These

_What will I say to her? What do you say to a savior of the galaxy? What do you say to someone who spared you from an old witch_? Atton wondered as his boots gathered Coruscant dust. His brown robes were frayed a bit, but he still liked them the best out of all the robes the team had collected, looted, bought, or stolen over their travels. His were from the palace on Onderon. He got them from Aneela as a gift for staying on the ship to keep the engines primed to leave. They were brown, and she said they were old and treasured. _Treasured or not_, Atton thought, _they must be so comfy. Those customary robes that I had before were so ugly. Besides, Mical wears the same kind…_

He cringed. Mical… the sprout of all his anger towards other. Atton had two kinds of anger—towards others and himself. Most of it was towards him, but ever since Nar Shadda and his I-Want-To-Die moment came, he felt a bit better. He felt remorse and regret everyday for what his past was, but he couldn't help it. So he took the advice of his father, a man he'd only known for about twelve years before he left to help the Republic in the Mandalorian Wars.

He remembered his father telling him one day while they were on a big trip to Tatooine. It was the cheapest shuttle, and Atton was eager to travel anywhere. His parents scraped together some money when he was ten years old to take him to Tatooine. His mother stayed home with his siblings, a brother and a sister.

His father was sitting on a sand dune with a blaster rifle in his hand; he was eyeing a gigantic wraid. "Here, Atton," his father said, handing him a blaster pistol. "Huh?" the young Rand asked shocked. His father just handed him a gun! "Don't worry, you won't shoot yourself," he said encouraging Atton to take the pistol. "But… it's just a wraid!" he cried. "We're gonna kill it?"

_I still had a heart back then_, Atton thought sorrowfully, but continued on with the memory.

His father nodded. "The wraid plate'll get us all the way back home, and maybe we can take the entire family someplace better," his father said. "Really? You mean Mom, Lyza, and Hooluan can come too?" Atton asked eagerly. His father grinned and nodded again. "Let's go get it!" Atton grinned impatiently; he and his father got up and Atton fervently ran up to the wraid, shooting the blaster pistol as much as it would possibly go. His father told him to stay at least twenty meters from it, and he did. He ran about, thinking of the happy memories his family would have on another vacation. He figured that if this was what just having his father was like then having his whole family would be so surreal.

His thoughts and involuntarily walking and dodging of people was interrupted when he heard someone running in his direction and yelling, "Atton!" To his relief, it wasn't Mical—it was Bao-Dur. He stopped walking and spun round.

"Can we walk together?" he asked. "I'm actually getting tired of those machines no matter how 'perfect' they claim to be. They've started arguing who is more superior. I've ran ahead; they can still sense me. Doesn't really matter. Where were you?"

In the distance behind them, it could be heard soft droid voices:

"Correcting Statement: But I am more superior for my photoreceptors are more upgradeable, and I do not kill my master or attempt to—with some exceptions to my previous masters."

"May I correct you, assassin unit, that I come cleaner than dirt?"

"Agonized Statement: Oh but you, fat one, are just a floating sphere while I am a fully functional assassin unit—capable of taking down any kind of organic meatbag and translating over 1,000 different languages."

"But I came with all my essential parts."

"Statement: But I am still better—I have many new, ugly, and grey versions of me across the galaxy.

"Corrective Statement: I do not support the new versions of me. Why be grey when you could be dirt red to blend with surroundings?"

_I'm getting a bit tired of those droids_, Atton thought as the T3-M4 unit came up and started moving beside them. Then the Remote came floating behind Bao-Dur. "Some are tolerable," he said. "Maybe we should just leave the other two to themselves in confinement?" "No arguments here," Atton said.

"Excuse me," said a voice. Atton turned. _Great… _he thought. _Do I need a holier-than-thou Jedi figure_? "May I join you as I go back to the Ebon Hawk?" Atton opened his mouth, but Bao-Dur quickly cut in, "Sure" to keep the peace, and he made it his duty to stand between the two just to make sure they kept apart and civil in words in actions.

The group proceeded to the Republic office and made their way to the docking stations. They proceeded onto Deck 16 where the Hawk was being held; the Coruscant skyline was behind the ship in the setting sun.

Visas and Mandalore had beaten the group there and were talking with Mira and Aneela. Visas was laughing and Mandalore seemed to have softened up and had become wiser; it seemed he had gotten closure. Mira's face was lit up with a smile and Aneela was talking and laughing; they were cherishing the moments that they were in each other's presence, for they all knew it would not last. And, like the clichéd slogan for Juma Juice had been for five years, "Savoring the moment".

For some reason, Bao-Dur, Atton, Mical, and the droids just stopped and stared at the group.

Bao-Dur looked at the General and thought that this was the happiest he'd ever seen her; he wanted to sit down with her and reminisce about good times—not the war—over some Juma. He regarded her as one of his best friends, and he knew their goodbye would be hard. He was returning to Iridonia and would need to leave Coruscant eventually, for home always had its calling, he believed.

Mical looked at Aneela and was filled with admiration, respect, and warmth. _But the ways of the Jedi_, he told himself. He felt like he needed to be human, and his duty to the Jedi could be carried out. He knew he couldn't help but love her. From the moment he bowed to her on Dantooine, from seeing her face and robes stinking of dead laigreks, he knew he loved her. Even seeing her here now, he knew he loved her. He couldn't explain it to anybody—his mother, a stranger, or even a journal if ever presented with one. He would always stare in admiration and in love, but he would never stand in her presence ogling her. This was another vow he made.

_I must help her in whatever way I can_, he told himself._ For her road maybe be just beginning or it maybe be finished. She may wish to settle down or start searching for answers, for anything_. At this, he vowed to be there to console her whenever he could, to protect her from whatever hurt or harmed her in any kind of way. This was the only thing he could do: try to protect her. He could also be her solace, an outlet from everything. He wished that he could be her strength and do anything she asked. He looked to his left to see Atton looking at the ground.

_Oh Atton Rand… what are you going to do_? he asked himself. He remembered the wraid plate memory and thought of her thinking of him as a pansy or swooning over it. He guessed the former, since the only connection between them had been when she awakened him. She put her hands on his head and whispered every word; his eyes were closed but he could almost see her in his mind's eyes whispering the words to awaken the Force in him once again.

He tried to glimpse into her eyes, into her inner-self but it never worked. He only knew how to shield his mind, not read others. He wanted her to look at him, but he couldn't look at her. He stared at the ground. _What would she think if you told her_? he thought. He pictured how it would go:

_"I think I love you," he would confess._

_"You? And me?" she would ask, taken aback._

_"Yes…" He would console her._

_"You loved that woman who tried to save you! You killed her! You think I will ever love you?" She would be angry and scream at him._

_He would be silent._

_"Keep away from me, Atton Rand. Even though Kreia is my enemy, I believe what she said about you on Peragus—you're useful." She'd stare directly at him in the eyes. "Now you're useless."_

_Then he would walk away, dying inside._

The situation played in his head like an addictive holovid scene. _I can't tell her_, he thought. _If I care anything for her, I'll just let her go. What can I give her other than a headache? Mical can…_ He realized then what he was truly thinking. He was realizing that Mical was the right one for her. _Let go…_ his mind told him. He tried to resist, but Pazaak couldn't shut out his own mind. He replied without defiance, _It is right_.

Visas, Mandalore, Mira, and Aneela were reminiscing about the different times the crew had on the Ebon Hawk. They avoided talk of the future, but not of the past. Mira and Mandalore had the most stories to share since they were always in the main hold. But Visas was the one telling the story of how she went to see how much time was left in the journey. She said that when she went back to the dormitory to meditate, she caught Mical in the medbay reading a book that he snapped shut immediately when she walked by. She then read his thoughts for her own "purposes" and found out he was reading a book for female Twi'leks and male Twi'lek mating rituals. At this, the group erupted in laughter.

Then Mira looked up to see the motley crew of two humans, an Iridonian, and four droids sitting and floating at the doorway of the airlock. She smiled and waved at them and said to Aneela, "They're here." At this, Aneela spun round and grinned. She waved blissfully at the group.

They did a quick walk towards each other and met in the middle of the landing bay. Aneela was crying out of joy by now, for she was so happy to see her crewmates and friends again.

She went up to Bao-Dur and gave him a hug. He smiled and said, "Good to have you back, General." The words slurred out to Aneela. "Good to have you back…" echoed in her mind. _I am back, baby_! she said. _Whoa! Did I just say "baby"! I bet that doctor gave me spice…_ She disregarded the peculiarity of her choice of words and went to Mical.

The blonde doctor looked like he had been reading again: his eyes were a bit bloodshot and his fingers were covered in paper cuts. She put her arms around him. "Glad you're feeling better," he said. "We were all worried." _Psh, right._ Atton thought. _I bet he was too busy burying his head in books to even notice she was unconscious._ He then remembered his conversation with himself, and thought of himself at first delusional, but then remembered that he was going to let or go—or was it try to let her go? And Atton Rand did what he always did: ignore his mind.

Aneela then moved to Atton and smiled at him. _Stay…vigilant…_ his mind told him. _Screw you_,he told it. Ignoring it, he hugged Aneela and said, "It's great to see that you're okay." It was covered with sincerity, and he would think her to be deaf if she didn't get its honesty.

_Wow_, she thought, _Has he matured_? She questioned whether or not to say that aloud, but she knew that rhetorical questions and sarcasm didn't fit this moment. Instead she hugged him a little tighter, and then let go.

She stared at the guys and remembered what Kreia had said about Mical:

"He cannot help but love you, in his way. It is a pure, ideal love he holds, strengthened by your presence and your actions."

Then Aneela became scared. She was surrounded by friends, and some that loved her more. For Mandalore, he was her companion, and that was all. For Bao-Dur, she was just the General. She knew he could never love her, for she tortured herself during the Wars and if they ever were together, they would look upon each other and see only the War. She scanned Mical.

She knew he loved her. She was afraid of this. He was princely, but a bit like an obsessive follower. He was always trying to comfort her; he immersed her in placate conversations and serene mediations. She knew the entire time, but she did not when it had originated. Perhaps when they met? She didn't know or care. She only knew of the present.

Her eyes scanned Atton over too. He was wearing those Ossus Keeper Robes from the palace when she'd led an assault on Vaklu's troops. They were fringing and were ill-fitted; he didn't know how to tie them right. She knew he felt for her too. From their conversations, she was more understanding. But she didn't want to analyze them. Besides, she was supposed to be a Jedi and was supposed to be beyond this—like everyone else on the ship, save Mandalore and the droids.

Amid her thoughts, she realized Atton, Mical, Mira, Bao-Dur, and Visas had formed a circle round her. Mandalore stood aside, it was if he knew these moments always came back to haunt you after all the crew had parted. It then hit her that all of them were her Padawans. She had trained each in the Force, or, in Visas's case, had reunited her with the light side. She had awakened Mira to Nar Shadda, helped Atton release his anger, reassembled Mical's Force connection, aided Visas on her path, and brought peace to Bao-Dur. She had altered everyone's life around her.

* * *

Aneela looked at the sun as she sat at the edge of the docking bay. She has just awakened about ten hours ago. The sun bejeweled the sky as she stared at it in deep, pensive thought. She began to wonder about the future, a topic that was hardly ever discussed. She knew her future, but the crew did not. She knew she would have to tell them that she planned to leave, to follow Revan and to find her; she planned to help her fight off whatever's coming, or at least stall it, so the galaxy could ready itself. 

Then she thought of the question of "What's out there?" She wondered where Revan went and how she traveled with out the Hawk to help her get around. What did she travel on? How could you not use machines in Unknown Regions? You must travel somehow. What about companions? An army of one normally fails. How could taking people you love somewhere only harm, not help? Why did Revan not explain anything or at least say when she'd be back?

Her mind instantly went to Carth Onasi at this thought. Would Atton and Mical end up like him—awaiting her return, and then one dying of a broken heart at hearing she'd chosen the other? She wondered how he was faring, or if he was faring at all. When she glimpsed him at their brief meeting on Telos, she could sense he'd already lost a lot, not even including Revan. He said Telos was home, meaning he'd lost it once. But did he have family here? Aneela didn't even want to think of his pain if he had a wife and children here and them dying along with his life. Now he'd finally found someone else—something impossible—and then she'd left him too. Aneela could feel his pain, and stopped thinking of him. She couldn't bear it, and sat in awe thinking of how he could.

More thoughts bombarded her: Who is Kreia—or Darth Traya? Why was she being hunted, although she already knew the answer? Where was Revan? Why did she leave? Will I live to return? Will I even have enough courage to go, let alone say goodbye? Can I look Atton and Mical in the eyes again? What the hell am I doing here?

Her questions were interrupted when she heard footsteps behind her. _Please don't be Mical_, she thought. But what about Atton? _Oh, and Atton too_, she thought again, trying to even herself out. She wished she could remain neutral but that would become harder and harder.

She spun round to see Bao-Dur. "'Ello, General," he said. "Beautiful, isn't it?" She nodded. They stared at the skyline. "Can I talk to you about this whole journey, General?" he asked. Aneela only nodded; she knew that Bao-Dur would never love her, but always be a friend. But she was afraid for half a second he was going to say, "I love you. Kill Mical and Atton and come to me" but he didn't. "You know, this has brought me a sense of peace. And who knew that me, that half-machine Iridonian, could've become a Jedi? Now that I've got this lightsaber..." he stopped, as if remembering something. "Oh yeah, here's your lightsaber. I tweaked it, like I did mine. I just added a few things I'd made myself." He handed her the lightsaber.

Aneela felt it in her hand—the thing she had used to end Kreia's would-be tyrannical reign. The hilt buzzed out, and the orange matched the sunset. She knew the crystals in it, only one—the Aneela Crystal from the kinrath caves on Dantooine. Revan has passed there on her journey, and the Aneela Crystal felt special somehow.

"I just wanted to thank you for teaching me the ways of the Force, General," he said softly. She looked at him; he looked like he could cry at any moment. "I'm going back to Iridonia," he spoke slowly, "to see what has become of my home since I was last there." "You're going—home?" Aneela asked. "Yes, General," he said nodding, "home's always got some call for me. I guess ever since you calmed the unrest inside of me brought on by Malachor, I can finally go home in peace. The anger is still there, but not as severe as before. I can now sleep thanks to you, General."

"Stay," she said, "at least another day." "I would, but the shuttle leaves tomorrow really early—peak morning hours," he said. "I'll miss you, General." "Bye, Bao," she said. And she could do what only a friend leaving a friend could do—she hugged him with tears in her eyes. One of the Padawans is leaving his master to forge his own path, she realized. Their tear-filled embrace lasted a few moments of silence. "The droids are all fixed up," he said, "and I'll leave the T3 with the good upgrades." He grinned. "I'd leave that G0-T0 unit on Nar Shadda whenever you get the chance." Aneela laughed. "Alright," she said. They stood up and he put his mechanical hand on her shoulder. "You've won again, General," he said, "and don't lose again either."

They hugged again and he left her and went aboard the Hawk to get the last of his things: mostly spare parts he'd collected from various places and a few other various items like clothing, some credits he'd won from Atton in one lone Pazaak game they'd played, a broken lightsaber the General had given him from the Jedi enclave sublevel, and a book that he filled his idle hours (while not repairing the Hawk or the droids) with sketches, scribbles, and drawings of droid designs and notes he'd taken while his many hours repairing. He stared at his belongings after they were scattered on the dormitory floor.

Atton was bored out of his mind. After Aneela said to everyone she wanted to meditate in the Coruscant sun, he realized that she meant spending at least three hours by herself. Only an hour had ticked by he was bored. He'd played Pazaak with himself, but he'd done that countless times when he was being taciturn and realized that Pazaak was half skill, half luck. He'd mastered the skill part, but the luck part was still something he'd need to grip hold of. But he needed an opponent, and there wasn't really a line. He counted his credits one-by-one to pass time and came up with 457 even. The entire 457 he'd won in Pazaak games in cantinas (he'd gotten about 50 credits from Mira after going into the medbay and talked to Mical and pretended to be interested).

From the cockpit, he noticed Aneela meditating at the edge of the hangar. He wondered what kept Jedi meditating. _If this stuff takes so long_, he wondered, _then why shouldn't I try to pass time_?

He got up from the pilot chair and went to the communication room. Mira wasn't working at the desk so he shut the door and locked it so nobody could catch him meditating. He also went into the communication room so nobody spying the security cameras could see him either. He sat on the floor and got into the meditating position every Jedi got into: pretzel legged, hands on your knees palms up. He closed his eyes._ Now what_? he thought.

He remembered reading a strange Pazaak book he'd received from a soldier friend called "Pazaak: Mind Over Matters". Throughout the 1040 pages of small print, he just learned things he already knew: mind tricks, watching opponent's eyes, and the like. But he also found out that supposedly meditating could numb your mind and prepare you for "seeing the numbers" or something bizarre like that. He remembered reading that to meditate, "one must focus on either blank white or good things". He didn't believe this, but he focused on good things.

_But what_ are _good things_? He thought. He then began to wander in his mind. He thought of Pazaak games, Aneela, seeing Mical embarrassed, Nar Shadda, and Pazaak-playing Twi'lek dancers.

He opened his eyes abruptly. _Am I Jedi_? he wondered. _I have a lightsaber, I've got the Force…shit, I am. Does this mean good-bye Pazaak and late nights on Juma at the cantina or the Pazaak den? Good-bye Nar Shadda and its glorious opportunities_? He began to panic over the subject of losing his habits to protecting the galaxy. The fact that he, Atton Rand, would sacrifice something to a galaxy that wouldn't sacrifice itself for him was just absurd. The morbid reasons of him sacrificing himself for… for the galaxy? He stood up quickly. If this is what meditating brought on—sacrifices and other Jedi stuff—he'd have no part of it.

He opened the communication room door and proceeded back to the cockpit to play some Pazaak despite it was boring him out of his mind.

* * *

Aneela stared at the dark ceiling. It was about two in the morning and she was lying on the garage floor with her pillow and a blanket. She insisted that the crew sleep onboard the Hawk one last night together, for old time's sake. For supper, the entire crew had dinner at the Republic's mess hall and sat there reminiscing. She remembered it flawlessly: 

They'd finished a dinner of some strange food off of some random planet—a food with too many hyphens and X's. They'd polished off two pitchers of Juma already and were sitting at a large table with just enough chairs for the seven of them (the droids were elsewhere). She was sitting on the far left of the table, and Atton naturally took the seat next to her as if trying to secretly say something that was brought out into the open. Mira sat next to her and then round the table was Visas, Mandalore, Mical, and Bao-Dur.

After their plates were taken away by the good kitchen staff (who was tipped later), the group poured fresh glasses of Juma and toasted to the future. It was an odd thing to toast to, for it was unspoken of, unknown, and full of despair for many of the crew.

When mentioning of the future, Atton observed Mical on the sly with a strange look in his eyes; Mical returned the look with a glare. Mira looked a bit unhappy, Mandalore was frowning a bit underneath his helmet, Visas was expressionless, as always, and Bao-Dur was the only one, save Aneela, who was grinning part way. "Come on, guys," Aneela said to the group. "Screw the future—think of the now." They took this as a command and grinned a bit.

They talked of times from the journey that brought back great memories. Aneela, in her own mind, drowned herself with Juma for some reason. She would've bottled up that night and gotten drunk on it every single day of her life if she could've. The feeling of fellowship and of friends was so great, it made her want to burst and do something spontaneous and crazy.

But that was over. The ceiling of the garage was dark and she was awaiting Bao-Dur's leave. She wanted to say goodbye to a good friend one last time; she knew more of this was to come, and she wouldn't get this chance. She thought of her future. Would she follow Revan? She then thought of Atton and Mical and started weeping. It would break her inside to hurt either of them. But what was her head telling her? Immerse her soul in who?

She then heard the sound of footsteps and sat up, tears still streaming down her face. Expecting to see Bao-Dur, she didn't bother wiping her eyes. She knew he didn't care, and she knew he would do the same. He was returning to Iridonia, and she would probably never or rarely see him again. The footsteps drew closer and more tears fell._ Bye, Bao-Dur…_ she thought sorrowfully as she laid her head back down on the pillow.

Aneela almost jumped out of her skin when she saw Mical walking about the ship. "What the hell are you doing?" she said, startled. Quickly she turned away to wipe her eyes but it was too late—he'd seen her. "Is everything alright?" he asked, apparently concerned.

_He wasn't going to laugh it off as a joke? He actually_ cared? _But…_ she thought. He cared—he really cared. She even saw the unrest in his eyes. _What is my head telling me_? she thought. _Is this my future_? She looked down the hallway to Atton's dormitory. _Or is that_?

She stood and walked to Mical. "No," she said, more tears falling and hugged him. She buried her face in his shoulder. She was weeping bitterly now. Was it just convenient or was this it? Her head ripped her open with questions: Did she love Atton or Mical? She knew that an answer would be demanded of her soon—and she didn't have one… yet.


	4. Too Many Choices

Aneela squeezed her eyes shut. Then she opened them to see the darkness of the Ebon Hawk's garage around her and Mical's shoulder. The tears blurred her vision slightly. She breathed shallowly for a few moments and looked at Mical with wistful eyes. His eyes were full of questions: "What is wrong?", "May I aid you?", and those kinds of inquiries. He wanted to help her.

His eyes looked into hers; they locked. And then it seemed as if the Force itself slowly pushed them to kiss. _There is no passion, there is serenity_, a voice in her head told her. She pulled away a little, bit her lower lip and said, "We can't." She pulled herself away from him fully, and looked him in the eyes. "You seek strength; you will find it in your future," she said.

"My...future?" he said. It was obvious he was reciting to Jedi code in his head to calm himself from this rejection. Kreia's words echoed in Aneela's head:

_"If he leaves this place, he will leave the galaxy behind him. He will sit upon the new Council, reluctantly, as all good men do, and he will not forget the Jedi who had lost the Force, yet showed him the way to reclaim it."_

She closed her eyes. "You will become a member of the new Jedi Council, but unwillingly," she said, "and you will wield the Force still. You will be strong, and that is all I know." Opening her eyes, she saw his expression. "How can this be true?" he asked. "Do you remember how Kreia could see into the future?" she asked. He nodded, trying to grasp why she was quoting a manipulating Sith. "She told me your future—everyone's future, save a few." Her eyes looked at the ground, obviously grieving.

"Did she say anything else of me?" he asked. "No," Aneela answered, "but I do know that you are strong, Mical. You will leave this place without me—it for the best of everyone. You will go to the new Jedi Council here, on Coruscant, and be a wise man until you are old. Then you will die a death of age in your bed one night." She looked at him. "But this is just my speculation. You may die in a thug attack, or even an airspeeder crash. But that is unlikely." "Is this the truth?" he asked. "Is this really the truth—my future?" She nodded. "Yes, but do not tell the other what I have told you—that I know some of their futures, and that I will leave this place," she paused. "Alone."

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. _She is leaving alone? But… she won't survive,_ he thought. "Do not underestimate the Force, Mical," she said. She took a few steps, and then looked at him. "Why are you shocked? You will see me again." _She's reading my thoughts_! he thought.

Aneela walked out of the garage, leaving Mical there. He didn't move. He couldn't. He did the only thing out of desperation. He called out softly not to awake any of the crew, "I have just one question." She stopped and looked at him. She knew what it was. "Are you…?" he paused, not actually believing himself for doing this. "Are you in love with Atton?" Aneela reeled back from shock. His enemy just asked if… She wasn't able to process the question because it was so outrageous, so morbid.

She moved to Mical and faced him directly. _Take this slow, _she thought. After a brief pause for an effect, she said, "My mind tells me 'There is no emotion, there is peace' and 'there is no passion, there is serenity'. But my human instincts contradict that—my heart goes against that. I have formed attachments the Jedi are forbidden to have, but I am not a Jedi. I have resisted the dark side, and I know I can." She saw the fear in his eyes. _Easy_, she told herself. "I love you, Mical, but not in the ways of true love. I love you like a brother, a family member. You are my family, since I have none. My parents are long dead, and if I had siblings, they've been scattered across the galaxy, never to be found by me. So this is why I cling to the family given to me, the family I have now: you, Mira, Bao-Dur, Atton, Visas, Mandalore…" She stopped so she could see him.

There was a feeling in his stance that either said all of his fears were confirmed or that he was at peace. He was trembling a bit; he looked at the floor. She continued, "The Jedi Order takes babies from their parents, and those babies have a family—their Masters and their friends at the academies where they are trained in the Force. All the Padawans that were trained since they were a child formed a family connection, if you will, with their teachers and fellow apprentices. Why? They were given no family. I was given no family. _You _and the others are my family." She wanted to quiet the unrest inside of him. "Come," she said, "and sit." He gave her a quizzical look. "We will meditate on this," she said, "to calm whatever conflict is inside of you." She sat down near the workbench and he sat opposite.

It seemed that hours had passed, and if not hours, many minutes. Aneela heard a sudden thump as she was broken from her meditation. She opened her eyes to see Mical had fallen asleep. _This will do_, she thought. Standing, she went to the dormitory on the left side of the ship to find Bao-Dur sitting silently on the floor, staring at the small pack sitting idly next to the doorway.

He looked up at her; she couldn't see whether he was crying or not because it was too dark. She gestured for him to come out of the dormitory. He stood and picked up the pack and followed her to the main hold.

"Leaving soon?" she asked. He nodded. "Stay," she begged. "General," he answered, "I can't. I'm homebound now." "Why do you have to leave now? Why not in a few days?" she asked. "Freighters don't go to Iridonia that often, and I was lucky enough to catch one just before they signed off," he told her. "Besides, the droids are all fixed, and the Hawk is good condition. That little T3 can probably take care of everything now that major repairs have been done."

She stared at the floor. _Please don't leave me, Bao-Dur…_ she thought. "Is everything okay, General?" he asked. She nodded, although they both knew she was lying. Then there was a silence. Bao-Dur checked the time from a small handheld clock. "I should get going," he said. Aneela didn't notice she was crying. "You don't have to leave."

"I'm sorry," he said. "Thank you…for everything. For clearing up the anger from Malachor, for allowing me to sleep at night, for this…" He held up the lightsaber. "I've finally got my own to optimize." This put a smile on their faces.

"Will I ever you see you again?" she asked. "We thought we'd never see each other again, and then we met on Telos. The Force'll bring us together again for sure—but for who-knows-what. It could be for some Juma or to kill another threat to the galaxy," he said. For some reason, this gave Aneela hope. "You're right," she said, and embraced the Iridonian tightly—like siblings departing because, after all, he was her family.

* * *

After the incident with Mical and Bao-Dur's departure, Aneela needed to sleep. After standing alone in the main hold long after Bao-Dur left, she retired to the medlab's bed. There she shut and locked the door and took off her robes. She wore makeshift sleep wear, her brown underwear, and crawled into the bed. Burying herself underneath the too-clean smelling sheets, she balled up and cried, again. 

_How many times can I cry_? she thought. She rolled over onto her back and closed her eyes, clearing her mind. Eventually she slept, except it was the sleep that comes only to the grieving who reject sleep and don't want to wake up.

Aneela awoke to the darkness of the medbay, like she did yesterday. She saw the glowing lights of the consoles and threw the bed sheets off of her and then remade the bed for its next victim. She went over to the pile of robes she'd discarded the night before and put them on with little difficulty. After securing her belt and lightsaber, she unlocked and opened the medbay's doors.

She wondered the time and where everybody was. Aneela wandered to the dormitory to find Mira still asleep. _No wonder she was a bounty hunter_… she thought. _She sleeps late_. Aneela scanned the other beds: Atton's was messy since the blankets was thrown everywhere and the pillow was lopsided, Kreia's was neatly made, Mira's was filled, and Bao-Dur's was a little messy, like he'd made it in the dark.

Aneela wandered to the other dormitory to see Mical's bed was made in the same fashion the medbay's bed was made. She noticed Mandalore's bed was unused as it had been before. Aneela wondered if implants let him be nocturnal too, but never had the chance to ask him. Visas's bed, like Kreia's, was neatly made. It seemed like the Miraluka didn't sleep. Last was her bed which was made, but not perfect like Visas's or Kreia's old bed.

Knowing who was still aboard and who wasn't, she peeked into the garage to see Mical was gone._ It must be really late,_ she thought as she proceeded to the hyperdrive area. Noticing T3-M4 working hard on the ship, she decided not to interrupt the small droid. He worked so hard and never rested his hardware; she was afraid one day he'd break. Now that was a fear that Bao-Dur was gone, but she pushed him from her mind. She scanned the hallway and came to the cargo hold, but noticed Atton playing Pazaak with himself—again.

She silently stood there and watched him sit there in his Jedi robes in pensive thought as he threw down cards and drew cards. It looked funny seeing a guy in Jedi robes concentrating so hard on not maps, old books, but Pazaak.

Feeling someone watching him, he looked up to see Aneela and grinned. She did a false grin to hide her emotions and walked over to him. He was sitting the floor and playing with the cards on a large box. He pulled over a footlocker. "Have a seat?" he asked. She immediately sat down and watched the cards as if she was trying to use the Force on them.

"Why do you play Pazaak with yourself?" she asked curiously. "I mean, don't you feel lonely or bored?" "Not really," he said, shuffling his side deck, "because it's just something else to do." Aneela highly doubted this. "Sure," she said in a disbelieving tone. He smiled at her and shrugged. "Wanna play?" She nodded and he gave her four side deck cards.

She went first and drew an eight. Atton always took a long time on his turn after drawing a card, so Aneela amused herself by thinking of her next move. She then looked at Atton—she really looked at him. Once again, Kreia still haunted her thoughts despite she was dead:

_"There is no love left in a heart such as that one. But he would die for you, yes." _

She then called him a fool and said that answered all of Aneela's questions despite it did not._ Is there really no love left inside of him? Is he just an empty shell, held together by desperation_? she thought. "Your go," he said, interrupting her thoughts. He obviously didn't notice her staring since he didn't say anything of it, and he would, knowing his normal behavior. She drew a card from the deck and got a two and then ended her turn.

_Because… well, what if Kreia was right. I mean, she is psychic and all, but how can she really know a man like Atton? I mean, he plays Pazaak in his head just to make sure I don't know what really goes on his head. He even counts power coupling ticks just so nobody can_— she thought, again interrupted. "Your turn," he said, focusing on the cards. His total was at sixteen. She drew another card and got a six. She then played a +4 card and won the match. Atton cleared the cards away and she started again with a ten.

_But…do you love him? Do you truly love this guy sitting in front of you_? she thought, glancing at him. He was focusing on her cards, and then looked at his own and the three he'd drawn from the deck. _What will you do after your profess your love to him? Make out like they do in the holovids and then leave him for a number of years_? she thought, and then her mind turned to a victim of Revan: Carth Onasi. _Do you want him to end up like that_? she thought. _You want him_—

"What's with you?" he asked. "You're acting like you've found out that you're father was a Hutt." He looked concerned—or was another one of his fake feelings to hide behind? "You're—you're not acting like yourself." She flashed a fake smile. "I'm fine," Aneela said as she turned to her cards and quickly drew a four and then she played her /-6 card as a +6 to win the game. "You win," he said. "Guess I need to practice more." She faked a smile again. "I keep telling you it's luck but you don't listen to me," she said. "I'll see you later at dinner, okay? I'm going to explore." "Okay," he said, grinning and nodding like he didn't have a choice.

At that, she put her side deck in a pile and got up off the footlocker and got away from the crate, telling herself over and over in her head that she was an idiot.

Atton watched Aneela leave. She'd beaten him—again. He needed practice. He was lucky she'd come—he was about to check on her just to make sure she was okay. He was flooded over with relief that she didn't find him the least bit antisocial, for he was thinking "Don't stare at her" the entire game.


	5. There is No Emotion

Author's Note: This one took me awhlie to write and I'm not sure if I even like it. See ending note for more.

* * *

10…6…3…5...2…4… Atton counted the number on the Pazaak cards as they flipped by. What was he still doing on the ship? He remembered hearing Mical leave early in the morning. He sat staring at an eight when he threw it on the floor with the rest of the cards. 

He stood at the galaxy map and stared at the planets, rating them in his mind._ Dantooine—defiantly not my place of choice_, he thought. _No cantina, no Pazaak den. All it is just rolling hills, a ruined Jedi enclave, a bunch of hicks, and that strange blonde doctor_. His eyes scanned past Korriban. _That was one weird place_, he mused, _even though I didn't even get off the ship_. Atton looked at Onderon and Dxun and remembered long hours of boredom, big insects (once he went to check the outside of the Hawk to make sure no exterior damage was taken) with big wings, and lots of rain. Onderon was a crumbling planet where Queen Talia ruled over the rebels and her loyalists. He looked at Nar Shadda and longed to be in the Pazaak den. _Now _that_ is the place_, he told himself as he studied the planet carefully on the galaxy map.

He knew that he could probably go there now if he wanted, but decided naturally against it. Besides, he was a Jedi now and Jedi were supposed to be above credit-grubbing in cantinas and Pazaak-playing—his main hobbies. He stared out the cockpit window and looked out at Coruscant, the city that never sleeps. It seemed that airspeeders and ships were always going about and speeding past the docking bay.

He knew that he would have to face himself sometime. He was just either too lazy, too afraid, or something else. He guessed the formers, but he still wasn't sure. He remembered Mira always calling him a liar and said he lied to himself too much and a lot more than anybody she'd ever seen. But something didn't feel right. It was like he was denying himself, but he knew the truth.

His mind instantly warped back to the rejection scene he had memorized and created so well in his head. What would happen if he finally let down some of those walls? He would be vulnerable—and _that _wouldn't happen again.

But he couldn't fight it. The feelings had devoured him and sometimes even diverted his mind from Pazaak. He looked at the cards on the floor.

* * *

Aneela strolled on the street. It was crowded and busy. The weather was fairly pleasant; her robes weighed her down. Her robes were some Jedi robes she snagged from Mical. They were green and baggy. Aneela liked the Jal Shey Neophyte armor she'd wear when they were searching for the Jedi Masters on Nar Shadda, Korriban, Telos, Dantooine, Onderon, and Dxun. She'd bought them at the salvager camp on Dantooine and had worn them ever since. 

The robes set her apart from the regular citizen of Coruscant. People sometimes stared and then some just acted with such indifference she thought she was invisible. Her lightsaber was underneath her robes on her belt; the orange twin blades had killed many enemies. Thinking of the lightsaber, she remembered what Atton said when she told him she lost her lightsaber. "I thought Jedi were supposed to be married to their lightsaber," he said. This caused Aneela to laugh out loud because she knew it was true: she could never part with her lightsaber.

_Why must I always think of him_? she thought, frowning. _Is there love left inside of him? Was Kreia just saying that because she hated him or is it the solid truth_? She stopped walking._ But Mical—she said that he loved me. She didn't act good to him let alone anybody. She was always insulting Atton and calling him a 'fool'. Does that have any significance in what she told me_? She put her hand on her forehead. She knew this would not stop haunting her until she ended it. _Do you want to keep doing this_? she asked herself. _You know how to end it, but you just don't want to do this. Except this has literally consumed me and I won't rest until I get this off of me, will I_?

Aneela walked to the edge of the street and leaned up against the wall. _Will that bring you peace_? she asked herself, staring at the crowd. _What if it doesn't? Is this even humiliation or is it bravery_? She told herself not to be afraid; she braved Malachor V after it haunted her ever since she left. But somehow this was different. She was tired of breaking and hurting other people. She'd done enough in the war, and even though her past was a pretty tortured one, she had never really cared that much about people she'd been with. The fact was that she hadn't been with them long at all—they'd die somehow or desert.

She knew there was a lot of unrest in her. She then thought of the Jedi she'd trained; what if they saw her in a wreck and they'd lose hope? She'd cured the unrest in all of them so why couldn't she cure herself? How did she cure them?

She analyzed the steps: she awoke the Force in them and then began their training. But she talked to them. And then the thoughts of confronting her conflicts came back and began to bother her more.

_You can't run from it anymore,_ she thought. _Like Malachor, you've got to go back and straighten things out, no matter how hard it may be_. She sat down on the ground with a slight frown still on her face.

_May the Force help me_, she thought as she closed her eyes and went into a pouch on her belt and found the comlink. She then realized what she was doing._ Do not back down_, her mind told her.

Staring at it, she thought of the words to say. Trembling, she picked it up. "He-hello?" she stammered, very nervous. "Yeah, hey Atton. Um, can you meet me outside the Hawk? It's important."

* * *

_What did you just do_? he thought. He picked up the cards and threw them at the window in anger. S_he will say something Jedi, you watch_, he told himself. He banged his head on the back of the pilot's chair. "You idiot," he said aloud. He threw himself at the chair a few more times before ceasing. 

Fear of everything had consumed him—of himself, of Aneela, of rejection, of dying, of pain, of every negative emotion.

"What will you say to her?" he thought aloud. "Mical…" He stopped; he knew what he was going to say. "Mical is right for," he said softer than the thought before. He spoke at normal volume now. "Tell her he's got a future and he's got a decent past. He's aiding the Republic, and I'm just—Atton. What could I possibly give her that she doesn't already have? What can I possibly do to even begin to measure up to her?" He realized he had given up, even though he knew that he loved her. It might be that first-sight love, but he didn't know or care.

_So you're going to reject her_? he asked._ Just see how things go_, He was shaking a bit, and he could feel his heart beginning to race. He stood but felt like he could fall at any second; the fear was consuming him. Aneela's voice told him, "Remember the Jedi code" in his head. He could even remember the Code but he guessed after a few seconds of deliberating of words. In monotone, he recited it:

"There is no emotion; there is peace.  
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.  
There is no passion; there is serenity.  
There is no death; there is the Force."

Strangely, he felt calmer. _Shit, I am turning into a Jedi, aren't I? Pretty soon I'll doing the whole cryptic-routine and meditating_, he realized in horror. He brushed this dilemma off to face another one.

Atton exited the Ebon Hawk to find Aneela standing right at the edge of the docking bay. She was staring at the beautiful skyline and busy traffic. He felt himself want to run back onto the ship, but he kept himself planted with hope. He took a quiet, deep breath and walked over to her, his robes swaying. _Your time is up, _he thought to himself as he neared her.

"You wanted to talk to me?" he asked, already knowing the meaning of this meeting. Aneela turned to face him. "Yes," she said, noticing the fear in his eyes. "It's important."

Atton mentally prepared himself for the blow. "On Malachor," she began, "I had to face Kreia, who called herself Darth Traya. I didn't kill her right away—we had one final conversation." She looked out at the skyline for she couldn't see his eyes anymore—they gave him away. He was full of fear, regret, and hope—and they killed her inside.

"She said she wanted to give me one last gift. She looked into the future for me," Aneela continued, still staring at the skyline. "She said Mira's, Mandalore's, Mical's, and Visas's future. There was nothing about Bao-Dur, the droids or—or you." She spoke slowly and solemnly. "She said that Mira would live her life happily and remember me. She said that Mandalore may reunite the clans, but the time of the Mandalorians is over. She told me Visas would go back to Katarr and feel peace finally. And she told me that Mical would be in the new Council and that he wouldn't want to be, but he'd do it anyways." She stopped.

"She also said…" Aneela couldn't say that Kreia said Mical loved her. She couldn't. _You've come this far_, her head told her, _so finish it_. Without warning, she shed a tear of shame and regret. "She also said that Mical loved me." She stopped. She couldn't bear it. _Go,_ her head screamed. More shameful and regretful tears involuntarily fell from her eyes, which she believed cried too much nowadays.

"She told me that you," she paused to try to stop it. She would've done anything to fast forward. "She told me that you are forever a murderer." Painful tears fell across her face. "And," she choked, "she told me that you could never love anybody."

Atton felt his body tense. _She'll believe it_, he thought. _That psycho witch reconnected her with the Force_. The words brought a new thought: _Could _he love anybody? He deserted a lot, but was this time different? Atton grew tired of all his sentences ending in question marks—he wanted answers.

Without thinking, he said, "She's wrong." Amazed at his own words, he watched Aneela turn to face him with tears streaming down her face. "Is that from your heart or is just another one of your lies?" she asked. "Do you even speak from your heart, or are there too many walls guarding it? What the hell are you afraid of!" The thoughts consumed her; she forgot the Jedi Code; she forgot who she was talking too and started to yell. "Are you afraid of actually finding someone but then becoming vulnerable? Is _that _what you're afraid of! If you love someone, you tell them! You don't stand in corridors, hide in empty rooms, or guard yourself so nobody can know what's inside of you. You—" she stopped suddenly. She saw his face.

_Say it,_ his head told him now. "Why do you think I'm afraid? Why do you think I hide from you? This has occupied my thoughts for way too long," he said. He turned to walk. "Oh, and when you're skipping off with Mical, just remembered the ones who saved you, the one who taught you how to shield yourself. Just remember…" he stopped in the middle of his addendum. "…that I loved you."

_It's finished_, Atton told himself. He'd stepped out of himself to tell her. He then realized that she meant so much to him—she was the only one who had changed him, who had made him open up. Usually he didn't say anything that was inside of him unless absolutely necessary, but he didn't with her.

It was then he realized she stopped yelling; he could feel her stare, he could sense her gaping. He didn't turn. "You're the only one who made me say what's inside without pressure," he said. "I…well, I kinda wanted to tell you. It wouldn't get out of my head." He sighed. "And when I look back at the Atton Rand who killed the woman who showed him the Force, I don't recognize him. This Atton Rand wouldn't since he knows the way of the Jedi because he is one." He turned and looked at her. "You've got unbelievable powers—you've changed the unchangeable," he softly said.

_You changed him. You made him civil. You gave him a reasonable outlook on life so he can have a decent future, _she thought, _and now he wants to give you one_. She then thought of Carth Onasi, and how Revan's leave ruined him. She looked at Atton's sad face. _Do you want that to happen to him_? she asked herself.

She took a step towards him. _What are you doing_! her head screamed at her. Pretty soon she was a few meters from him. "I'm sorry for everything," she said and wrapped her arms around him. Then thoughts came, like when she was with Mical: _Is this it or it just something you want to feel_? She thought of her leave, and felt tears falling already. _I need to toughen up_… she told herself.

Atton stared at the woman in his arms: she was crying and looking downward. This was the moment everyone dreams of, he realized. Everyone dreams of holding someone they love and here I am. And then she looked at him.

She could feel the Force inside of him. It might not be very strong, but she felt its presence and sensed safety was finally in reach. She stared into his eyes, the only window that anybody had to the interior depths of Atton Rand. There was still fear, but a sense of peace now there. She could still sense he was angry; she wanted to calm it.

_This is the will of the Force_, she told herself for reassurance or maybe it was the truth—she didn't know.

_This is strange…I don't know if I can handle this anymore—all this overly romantic stuff_, Atton thought. He wasn't used to anybody caring about what happened to him. "So, uh," he said, scratching his head, trying to lighten the mood a bit, "are you exiled Jedi allowed 'such attachments'?" "No," Aneela said as she began to smile, "but we can work round it."

"I'm not used to anybody giving a damn about me," he said. "Oh I know," she said. He felt as though the Force or something was flowing through his veins and, without thinking, put his hand on her face. She did the same; the two kissed.

Atton, somewhere in his depths, felt as though all the anger had been extinguished. It had been awhile since a kiss meant something to him. He'd won a few from Pazaak games, but that was it.

Aneela realized what she was doing and pulled away. _You are insane_! her mind yelled at her. _You are so selfish—now he will end up like Admiral Onasi_!

"We shouldn't've done that," she said. "What?" Atton said, astonished. _You kissed me_, he thought. "Why!" "It's not fair for you," she said looking downwards now. "I'm sorry." "What the hell are you talking about!" Atton cried. "I have to leave!" she said. "Now?" he said. "No!" she said, increasing her volume. "I'm going to find Revan and help her."

Atton reeled back in shock. _Why would she go? She already saved the galaxy twice—during the Mandalorian Wars and by killing that old witch. I think three times would be a bit overdoing it,_ he thought. "Why!" he said. Desperation was going to overtake him, and he knew this. "Because I always follow Revan," she said, which was the only answer. "Let me come with you," he said. "I can help you fight off whatever's coming." She shook her head; "I cannot take anybody I love," she said. "But you can't…" he cut himself off.

A new emotion flew over him. It was for the worse. He hadn't felt since he was a child and since his father had gone to aid the Republic and he knew he'd never see him ever again. He started to feel tears. _She can't leave_, he thought, _because she is the only one who cares…_

She noticed him cry as he briskly tried to dry his eyes. She really had changed him a great deal. Her mind flew back to Nar Shadda: here was the guy who told her of his past, of how he killed a woman for showing him the Force. Now he was professing his love for her and crying. And then she remembered what Revan did: leave those behind who she loves; she knew she had to. She couldn't bear it; she'd changed a man so much that he was crying in the presence of a woman he loved. She couldn't bear it.

She put her hand on his face and wiped his left eye. "There is no emotion," she said, although she was crying too, "there is peace."

* * *

Final Addendum: Hope this wasn't too overly romantic and too much like TV... Sorry the update took so long. I didn't like this chapter at first and began a new one, but then decided just to post this one and then have the next one be chapter six. 


	6. Juma and Training

**NOTE: **There was a middle section centering around Mical that I deleted due to the fact that it has nothing to do with the main plot of the story.

* * *

Mandalore scanned the pages of the book through his helmet. He read through the page five times before replying on the comlink: "Alright." Kex was on the receptor end. He told Mandalore of the condition of the camp and how the recruits were training.

Kex had recommended a series of plans over a number of years that would get the Mandalorian base running again. It was complex and was written in a large leather-bound book that had sent. Mandalore admired the plans, and thought them to be sheer genius. He tweaked them a bit so he could call parts of them his own and sent the information back to Kex in the control room.

"Just be sure that the trainees don't get too good before I get back," Mandalore said. "When are you coming back, Mandalore?" Kex asked. It seemed that he liked following orders, not giving them. "Just give me a few more days," Mandalore told him, "and I'll be on a transport to Onderon. Make sure there's a ship in one of the docking bays for me." "There already is, Mandalore," Kex said. "It's in Bay C2. That doctor friend of yours says he'll be outside so you know which one." "Alright," Mandalore said. _This kid's got everything under control_, he thought. "See you in a few days." "Anything else before we cut communications?" Kex asked. "That's all," Mandalore said as he snapped off the comlink.

He stared at the Ordo blaster on the table in the empty apartment. He'd been polishing it up and making sure it fired like it used to. He could faintly hear the bustle of traffic outside.

Then a twinge of pain in his left hand told him he needed to take some meds, which were more like stims but lasted longer. He threw open a bag full of stimulants and implants and rummaged to find the right one. He'd color coded them because he was old and stupid. He chuckled at this thought but stopped when he saw the Cross of Glory at the bottom of the bag.

It was a bit dirty and had some unexplained dirt and crumbs on top of it. "I remember this…" he breathed, strangely talking aloud to himself. He picked it up and turned it over. He remembered the ceremony and some very strange looking Jedi Master pinning one on Revan and giving her his blessing._ How could this little alien possibly be a Jedi master?_ he remembered thinking and smiling to himself.

He remembered seeing, or what was left of, the army of the Republic applauding and cheering because Revan had killed Malak and restored a temporary peace. She'd skip off to Telos with that strange Carth Onasi, who he never trusted at all, and live the rest of her life in peace or fighting off something and always winning.

But things never turn out the way you want, and he remembered his old instructor telling him this again. He thought of the memories of being a young warrior: killing anyone who tried to stop them, sucking life out of planets. He thought of his past and this lead to the tortured part where Revan left him.

He remembered the day when he was one of the celebrators and she pulled him aside. "You can find Mandalore's helmet here," she said, handing him a small slip of paper. There was a planet name in a Selkath dialect and some coordinates. "Go to Manaan to have this translated," she instructed, "and then you shall become Mandalore like you are destined to become, Canderous Ordo." At that she left him and returned to Carth Onasi, the young Twi'lek Mission Vao, her friend Zaalbar, Juhani, Jolee, and Bastila. They were all sitting round a table and drinking Juma. He returned to the group and they reminisced for hours on end.

Then Mission's brother, Griff, came to get her. He said he'd finally struck it rich by playing Pazaak in cantinas. He now owned a swoop garage and droid shop on Nar Shadda and wanted her to come with. She went with her brother and Zaalbar a few days later.

Jolee Bindo told Revan that he had "one hell of a ride" and would go off to Coruscant to train as a Jedi. This absolutely shook her since he was always a neutral kind of guy.

The Cathar, Juhani, would return to Dantooine. She said she'd help rebuild the planet, but Mandalore guessed she built a house of stone and meditated for hours, trying to do light side actions although she was a shut in. She seemed to resemble Visas Marr, the Miraluka. They were both the last of their race and were both tortured individuals with basic personality conflicts and had been "servants of the dark side".

Bastila Shan… Mandalore chuckled at his recollection of her. She was always the holier-than-thou Jedi figure who went to the dark side herself. _Shows her weakness_… he remembered thinking. In many ways, Bastila reminded him of Mical—too Jedi, a bit annoying, and obsessed with meditation. She followed Revan, for Bastila felt she was indebted for her. How weak can you be—a light-side-obsession kind of girl being saved by Darth Revan: he remembered forming this opinion shortly after receiving the Cross of Glory he was now holding.

Mandalore took off his helmet and stared at it. He picked up a stimulant and injected himself in the neck; he felt his grey beard and hair and remembered he hadn't aged that much. He thought of the current entourage a bit more. He thought of Mical as a Carth Onasi figure also—sort of a weak person and obsessed with the fine line between a warrior and a soldier. He knew that Mical was Jedi to the very bone, and the Mandalorians knew no one like him.

He stared at the Ordo blaster again, and this time picked it up as if to dispatch a large group of enemies. _Those days are over_, he thought. _We're going to be on the offence now, not the defense, like we were during the Wars_. He stared out the window of the apartment: airspeeders, swoops, and ships of all sorts whizzed by, making a racket if one listened close enough.

He looked at the Cross of Glory, and remembered the Republic cheering for an enemy—a Mandalorian. He remembered his grim features and appearance softening just a bit for that ceremony. It was like something in the inside of Canderous Ordo had been slightly cracked open so whatever was in there could seep out a tiny bit. But he patched the leaks with training and pessimism.

He threw the medal back into the bottom of the stimulant sack and closed it up, injecting himself with another syringe in the large vein in his neck. He liked rekindling these memories; they brought a sense of gladness that Mandalorians were denied. The Mandalorians were taught to rape, kill, and maim every world they stepped upon; they were taught to cut down anyone who stood in their way, and to watch for themselves only. They were, like the Jedi, told that emotional attachments were deadly and mostly every single Mandalorian evaded such feelings. Mandalore had done this his entire life. The only emotion of love he ever felt was when he was just a boy of no more than five when he told a girl named Camilla he thought she was pretty. She later tried to beat him up, but Canderous won. He'd met her at a star port while he was with the leaders of his clan Ordo on a supply.

He chuckled at this, for he hadn't remembered these kinds of memories for a long time. He'd seen everything: triumph, friends leaving, defeat, honor in war, death, both the dark and the light side… This trip seemed like just another chapter in the Chronicles of a Member of Ordo.

His thoughts were erupted by his parched throat. He packed up the syringe up and picked up the Ordo blaster. He put it on his holster and threw the stimulant bag upon his utility belt. He didn't bother to lock the apartment; there was nothing noteworthy in there anyways. He reached for his helmet, but didn't want to put it on; his head needed to breathe a bit. He carried it under his arm as he stepped out into the sunlight.

His eyes felt blinded, and he squinted as he let them adjust to the sudden burst of sunlight. He saw the maddening crowd as he swerved in between people and aliens alike as he made his way to the cantina for some nice stiff shots of Juma to quench his dry throat.

Mandalore downed his sixth shot of Juma. He mainly sat and listened to the Bith band in the background as he stared into the Juma. He wanted to drown himself in his past in his current mood.

The Juma had put him in a lull state of mind where the voices in his head felt like the words were being spoken in reality. He kept thinking of the clans and battle plans. And then somewhere in the back of his head, his meditations were interrupted. It was like someone was contacting him on a comlink; "Let it go," the feminine and easily recognizable voice said, "for I shall come."

He then realized that his eyes were shut; he opened them like he'd just awoken from a strange and terrible dream. It was Revan's voice. He took another shot of Juma to drown himself in.

He downed the Juma quickly and realized that he'd heard Revan's voice and that he was going crazy. He threw the bag of stimulants and meds onto the bar and rummaged for a specific syringe filled three quarters of the way. It was an "emergency only" kind of syringe, and this was definatly an emergency. He thrust the needle into his neck vain and slowly pushed just a bit of the fluid inside his neck. A Duros stared at the old Mandalorian shooting chemicals into his neck with a painless effort.

Mandalore glared at the Duros; he immediately looked away. Mandalore stared at the empty Juma glass and called out for another one. "You've had enough," the bar tender said. "Otherwise the authoritie'll be knockin' on my door asking why you're all drunk 'n all." Mandalore frowned. "Another Juma," he said, slapping double the price on the bar. The bartender looked at the credits and said, "You gonna buy an infinte amount on me, Mandalorian?" Mandalore gave a yes. "Alright," the bar tender said, "but don't be flying any air speeder or anything. Don't want trouble for this cantina—we've already had enough."

Mira stared at the quarterstaff. _This'll help my combat skills_? she thought. Her face was in a quizzical expression as Visas picked up the other quarterstaff that was on the table. "Are you sure that this is 'legal'?" Mira asked. They were in an empty office in the Republic embassy. "Legal? You need to improve," Visas said simply.

"You think you can improve my skills, don't ya?" Mira asked. She didn't really like the idea of a blind girl teaching her how to fight with a sword. _I'll easily beat her_, Mira thought. She hadn't seen Visas in very much action—or the only action that counted was using Force powers and meditating with Aneela for a few short hours.

Visas picked up her quarterstaff. "Alright," she said. "Get into the ready position." "Is this necessary? I just need to learn parrying and basic movements. Then I can figure out the rest on my own," Mira said, trying to avoid a sisterly heart-to-heart with Visas. Visas looked at her through her headpiece. "You want to learn Echani tiers from Atton?" she asked. "No thank you," Mira replied, mirroring Visas's stance. "Hey," she asked, "how does he know Echani tiers?" "No idea," Visas said. "I"ve just seen him get in the Echani stances." She paused. "Mirror my movements."

"How would he know Echani tiers? Wait, how do _you_ know what Echani tier movements look like?" Mira asked, as if suddenly coming upon a startling revelation. "Probably some training," Visas said. "And I know them because I've seen many battles." Mira rolled her eyes. _So have I, sister_, she thought. "And if there is one thing I can guess," Visas said, doing a parrying move as Mira followed her lead, "is that he probably learned them from another 'Echani'—or one who claimed to be." "What?" Mira asked, copying another movement.

"He must have been lied to before," she said, "otherwise why wouldn't he be at least half honest? The past always has a part in shaping our future." Mira laughed. "True Jedi words," she said, mirroring another movement. "Hey, why don't you teach me how to be cryptic?"

"I don't understand," Visas said. She did another move. "Well," Mira started, "a famous Jedi trademark is the whole cryptic speech. Besides, if I can piss off Atton in the training process then it's fine with me." Visas grinned—it was the first time Mira had seen her grin. "What do you think of Mical?" she asked. "He seems a bit dry," Mira replied. "And he's got me doing his proofreading which, let me tell you, is no easy task. There are some concepts in there that even _I've_ never heard of!" "But do you trust him? Do you trust anybody here?" Visas asked. "Not really," Mira said. "But that's just me. I trust Aneela the most probably because, well, she's my teacher, trainer, master—whatever the Jedi call them." She looked at Visas. "You?" "I try not to forge my feelings into unappericative ones," she said. "But I do also trust her as you do." Visas now looked at Mira.

"If you want to become a Jedi—inside and out—you must understand words and their meanings. When someone asks you what something means, you tell him more than he wants to know. Then he will grow in knowledge and spread the bits out as he progresses through his life. Then he will tell others those bits of knowledge you passed to him and those learners will pass it on. The root of that bit of knowledge could be you, for the galaxy needs to be shaped again. And, I fear, that it is our job, our long road. We must remake the galaxy so men and women can live in peace everywhere. A few years ago, Revan triumphed. But the Sith are still to come. And this, I fear, may be all our doom. You and I are not ready to fight as Jedi yet, neither are any of the other crew. The Iridonian left, and he was not ready to yet part company with his master. He has been a slave of machines for a long time, and with the Force awakened in him, he may become even more skilled. But he is not ready to defend with the Force yet, as are you or I." Mira looked shocked at this speech. "Now _that_ was true Jedi speak," she admired. "And now I've learned." Visas did another movement and Mira copied. "Good," she said, "for the dark road is even easier walk than the light, but it is too obvious as we progress on the lonely pathways. Be wary," she said. She got in a standing position. "Good," she said, "now let us duel with these movements you have just practiced."

Mira raised her quarterstaff. "Must we fight with these?" she asked. "Vibroblades and swords will hurt and lightsabers can kill," she said. "And you do not want to die sparring with me do you?" Mira shook her head. "Prepare to be put right," Mira said. Visas stared at her, her amusement unscathed. "Damn it, I'll never get the Jedi routine down," Mira said as she got in a ready stance. "Good," Visas said. "Predict my movements as if you were just watching from a afar; predict them as if you have already done this..."


	7. Memories

Atton opened his eyes. _This meditation stuff is crap_, he thought. He tried to calm the thoughts inside him, but every time he closed his eyes he thought of Aneela. He wanted to shout at his mental image of her, "Get out of my head!" She'd changed him too much—she'd made him cry. Atton Rand never cried.

He'd gone through a lot in his short years of life. He guessed he was about twenty-four or somewhere around there. He didn't feel thirty, and even if he was he would deny it. He blinked for a few seconds; he saw Aneela's face in his mind and instantly opened his eyes.

Atton stood and surveyed his bed in the port dormitory. It was made a bit messily, but suited him fine. He opened the drawer. His brain hurt as he thought over what happened. Atton had retreated to the dormitory because he was afraid of Aneela speaking to him about what happened between them—and that was something he didn't want to discuss at all.

He surveyed the contents: some rotten fruit he was throwing away (he'd gotten it on Nar Shadda after beating an old man at Pazaak; Atton planned to throw the fruit at Kreia but never got the chance), many Pazaak side decks, an empty Juma bottle (someone had drunk it all), some Pazaak magazines, and some clothes. He only had one set of robes—the ones he was wearing.

He picked up the ribbed jacket and black cottony pants and threw them on his bed. He studied them and remembered the hell he went through to get that jacket. He was on Nar Shadda years ago and was in the Pazaak den, back when humans were the majority in there, and when it wasn't closed off to just anybody. He'd finally beaten some girl named Kataya. He remembered her boyfriend, some scruffy-looking schutta who looked like he got beat up. The boyfriend had the best jacket—the ribbed jacket.

Atton remembered seeing the girl walking on some Nar Shadda street with her boyfriend. She was wearing his jacket because it was a little chilly out. He got a great plan in his head as he walked up to her. He started talking about Pazaak and such. Her boyfriend didn't like this, of course, so he told Atton to back off.

"What?" he remembered saying. "She likes scruffy-looking humans, don't ya?" He tried to do the best remember-when look he could and then put his arm round her. "What the hell are you doing!" the guy asked. Atton gave a simple shrug. He grasped the jacket shoulder and tore it off the girl's shoulders. "Pure Pazaak!" he shouted as he ran away. He was about nineteen and there was fun in doing something like this to him back then.

_But that's over_, he thought. Atton looked at himself—he was wearing Jedi robes and was commanding the Force. He remembered winning his first real Pazaak game when he was fifteen in the cantina on his home planet. He shouted out loud; he'd won about five hundred credits. He felt the feelings again and felt a bit of warmth inside of him.

Atton started to drift as he sat on his bed. He drifted off into a state of mind where memories seemed to be his reality…

_"Alright, Rand, move over," a husky guy said. He took up about two of the seats next to Atton on the freighter. "Okay," Atton said. The husky guy, Stan, was probably the only person Atton had kind of buddied up with. He had a love for Pazaak and they usually played Republic Senate rules. They were on a freighter, the Fuselon, that was going from Telos to pick up fuel from Peragus II._

_Atton had heard about Peragus II in his "travels". He'd heard about the mining stories and accidents, droids and superheated tunnels. He did know about the fuel and how cheap it was. That was all he needed to know._

_"Pazaak?" Stan asked. "Nah," Atton said. "We're almost there." He looked out the small window. "What? You want to sit quietly?" Stan said as he put his hands behind his head and laid back a little. "Sure," Atton said, "if that suits you."_

_A few moments of silence passed. Atton was looking out the window, obviously thinking of what he'd do after he ditched the job as a freighter. He planned to go back to Nar Shadda and get lost as he called it. There was just something about Nar Shadda that drew him there—like metal a magnet, Atton always returned to Nar Shadda. It was like his home and he would carry it if he could. He recalled Stan telling him he was going to return to his family's moisture vaporizing farm on Tatooine. He said he was in the job for "the minimal credits and so his mother would get off his unemployed back"._

_Then man cried out in a squeaky voice, "Crew! Crew!" Great, Atton thought, it's Pejirk, the small self-proclaimed second manager who did a lot of butt kissing to remain hired. "We're within 2.5 kilometers of the landing point on Peragus II! Hand me all your blasters and long ranged weapons. Grenades may go in your lockers and your rooms will be locked," he said aloud, his voice so high he sounded like a man trying to imitate a woman. "My blaster?" Atton asked rhetorically. "I'm not giving it up. No way. This thing's saved my skin so many times…" "You will not need weapons on Peragus II," Pejirk continued. "Give them to Captain Helafeld. I repeat, give all your blasters to Captain Helafeld."_

_Atton stared at his blaster in the holster that was slung round his waist on his right, his pack was on his left, full of useful items like his side deck, a small penknife, and some other miscellaneous things. "Forget it," he said loudly. Pejirk, as if controlled by the Force itself, walked over to Atton and stuck out his hand. "Mr. Rand, Captain Helafeld says to give him your weapons. A stray blaster shot could explore an asteroid of Peragus! The asteroids are—" "—superheated gas rocks that could explode if hit," Atton chorused with Pejirk in almost perfect unison. "I know, I know. I've heard that too many times," Atton said. "Mostly from you."_

_Pejirk strode up to Captain Helafeld and told him of the stubbornness. "Great," Stan told him as Helafeld and Pejirk came up to them. "Now you've got Boss on ya." Helafeld was less nice that Pejirk—if you called it that at all. "Hey, Rand, gimme your blaster 'fore ya turn us all inta part 'o the new sun that'll happen if ya don't!" he barked at Atton._

_Helafeld was an old man of about fifty or sixty, but looked older from behind: his hair was grey and falling off his head and his short character made it look like he shrunk. His mouth was always full of too much spit, and he always had curious things tagged to his captain's uniform like strange medals that were undistinguishable to any crewmember there. Atton guessed they were fake so he could gain respect; it didn't work._

_Atton didn't say anything. He was deserting this place after Peragus II anyways so what's the difference? "Defiant, eh?" Helafeld shook his head. "Hey Perjk," he said, not turning round. "It's Pejirk," he corrected. "Whatever," Helafeld said. "Take this guy and make sure he doesn't get back on. I'm getting' a lil' sick of his insolence and incompetence to follow orders."_

_At this, Atton's eyes grew wide. "What the hell am I supposed to do on this backwater pla—wait is this stupid place even a planet!" he cried. "No," Helafeld said. "It's home." He grinned and strode off._

_"Why are ya staying behind?" Stan asked. "Hmph, I guess Helafeld and his personal kath hound discovered I was the virbroblade thief," Atton said. He shrugged. "I don't know," he added. "What did he mean by 'incompetence to follow orders'? Don't you always do as they say?" Stan asked. "What? I'm going back to Nar Shadda soon like I told ya," he said. "That's why I usually avoid that old man and his little slave."_

_"I'll miss ya," Stan said. "You know…nobody likes Pazaak here. And even if they did, they'd only play with women Nar Shadda style anyways." He sat back against the chair. "Yeah," Atton responded, feeling like he had to. He nodded a bit, then looked out as they landed on Peragus II._

_"Wake up!" some miner shouted at Atton in the mess hall. He'd fallen asleep again. Those dormitory beds were really uncomfortable. He'd been a janitorial figure at the mining colony on Peragus II for about two weeks._

_"Uhhh," he said sleepily as he stared into his water and "soup". The miners were all wearing their blue uniforms and they made Atton stand out in his jacket and white shirt and black pants. They'd at least been gracious—if you could call it that—to give him a bed and a shower in one of the dormitories._

_"Hey, Rand," a miner called. They didn't like him either. "Clean this up." Some miner had spilled his soupy food—again. He sighed as he got up and grabbed the pail underneath his chair. He kept it there because every meal he was scrubbing floors. He went on cleaning the floor as the miners talked. Before, they stared and snickered but that wore off. Now they just annoyed him and expressed indifference, which annoyed Atton more._

_"…yeah, there's this strange ship that came in last week," a miner with blonde hair said. "Really? I heard there's mounds of credits on it," said another with dark hair. "Yeah," the blonde said. "But a Jedi was on it!" His military cut hair didn't sway as he looked down at his food. The group said things like "A Jedi?", "Aren't they all dead?", "Really?", and the like. "Meet me in the southern hallway by the spot where they found that dysfunctional droid." They nodded._

_Atton knew what they were doing—he wasn't stupid. The Exchange posted a bounty on Jedi, what seemed, geological ages ago._

_"Get back here!" a security guard called out at a dark haired miner. Ever since an "anonymous report" came in, the security team was after the blonde with the military cut, Coorta, and his little posse of morons. Atton was mopping floors in between the containment fields there were only used in emergency lockdown tests._

_He began to start a new section of the floor when another security guard approached him. Atton didn't look up and he said, "He went that way." Atton pointed in the direction the Coorta Moron went in. "You Atton Rand?" he asked. "Who wants to know?" Atton asked, looking up. "Come 'ere, you," he said. The security guard, at first impression, seemed crotchety and like he didn't shower enough. "What?" Atton said. Why did they want him?_

_"Fine, fine," he said, setting down the mop. He got up and followed the security guard to the jail. "What the hell is this for!" he shouted._

_"You're in possession of pornographic images," he said simply. "What are you babbling about?" Atton asked again. He held up some pictures of him posing next to a Twi'lek dancer he'd met on Tatooine from the freighter job. "They're conversation pieces," he said. "All the guys love 'em." The guard just stared._

_"The head tails may look scary, but they're really not. They're actually really—" "Enough!" the guard bellowed. "Anyways, you can't have these. Miners aren't allowed to have any sort of literary material because it's highly flammable. It's really unsafe to have these. What if a blaster hit these?" "But there are no blasters allowed here!" Atton shouted. "Just get in the cell," the guard said. "Hey, innocent until proven guilty," Atton protested. "What if they were planted?" The security guard grabbed Atton's arm and pulled him into the containment field. "Rules are rules." "What kind of lame excuse is that!" Atton shouted as the guard left. "People only say that if they can't think of anything better or anything more legitimate to say to argue their point!" The guard brushed the response off as he closed the electricity around Atton._

_There he was—alone. He sat on the floor and let out a sigh. "Solitary confinement seems a bit much," he said to himself. "Great now I'm going to go crazy. Hey, at least I can sue them for making me insane." He adjusted his seating and pulled out his decks from his pack slung round his waist._

_Atton's eyes opened immediately at the sound of explosions and blaster fire. It continued with a few screams for about fifteen minutes. His stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't been fed. He stood up and called out, "Hey!" Atton tried to see if anyone was still alive. How could they hear him in here? "Emergency lockdown engaged." Great, he was trapped now—the force field was up outside the prison and he was trapped. He stood up for what seemed hours and paced in a very small circle in his cage to exercise his legs._

_He did anything to divert his mind: played Pazaak in his head, hummed cantina songs, thinking of Nar Shadda._

_Then the door shot open. Atton felt as though food was already in front of him. But security didn't appear. A woman in a strange brown pair of underwear and nerdy looking red shoes strode. He could help himself—he had been denied food, women, and real human contact. "Nice outfit—what, you miners change regulation uniforms while I've been in here?" He asked cynically_.

"Hey, Atton," Mira asked. She was in the doorway. Atton almost jumped out of his skin when she spoke. He twitched violently. "You okay?" she asked as she took a step in the dormitory. "Yeah?" he asked. His memory had been interrupted. _Of course it leads to her_… he thought. "You know where Aneela is? She said something about meeting up with her somewhere," Mira said. "I kinda forgot where. And since you spend so much time with her I thought you might know."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Atton asked. "Well, you've kind of joined yourself to her," Mira said in that isn't-it-obvious tone she used too often. "Whatever," he said. He looked up at her. She was wearing Jedi robes too and her purple lightsaber was on her belt round her waist.

"Well…?" she asked with an expectant look on her face. "I don't know," Atton said. He stood up. "You're not going to look for are you?" she asked. "Of course not," Atton said in a bit of an angry tone. "If you don't mind, I'm going to the cantina." "Fine," she said. "Just if you see her, tell her that I'm waiting for her by the Hawk." Atton mumbled something. "Mmkay?" she said again to make sure he'd deliver the message. "Okay," Atton said.

"Why aren't you going?" she asked. Atton wasn't walking off the ship. "I'm putting on my old clothes first because these robes are really itchy," he lied. "Run out of Jedi pride?" Mira asked. He rolled his eyes. "Come on, Atton," Mira said. "She probably loves you in those robes, probably thinks they look sexy or something bizarre. Honestly, they take you a step up from your credit-grubbing, Pazaak addict look you had before." He looked at her, obviously insulted. "Well, your robes take you only a half a peg up from you faux-rebellious bounty hunter look you had going on," he said.

"What the hell does that mean!" she shouted. "See what I mean?" he said with the serenity of a Jedi. "You get upset over nothing. If you want to snag a guy, you've got to act nice." "And be a clone of Aneela?" Mira said. She took a breath. "I don't have time for this." She walked away leaving Atton triumphantly standing.

He looked at the clothes, and then at the robes he was wearing._ Does she really like these on me_? he thought. Shrugging, he tossed the ribbed jacket and pants back in the drawer and grabbed a few credits to go buy some Juma.


	8. Facing Our Fears

Mira leaned idly up against the Hawk's hallway by the loading ramp, anxiously awaiting Aneela. At least fifteen minutes passes since Atton left to get some Juma. _Like he really was_, she thought. _He's probably going to go look for her and have her forget all about this so important meeting she was desperate to have. _

She stared at the floor for a second; she heard only the speed of traffic outside the docking bay and T3 going about the ship. He was recently put back in to keep the Hawk in tip-top shape. "Come on," she said aloud, as if hoping to make the process speed up. Groaning, the fingered her belt for the comlink and called Aneela.

It beeped a few times before she got a response. "Yeah?" Aneela asked. Her face appeared in a crowded street off to the side. "Where are you?" Mira asked. "I'll come to the Hawk," Aneela said. She cut the connection quickly. _What's that about_? Mira wondered as she slowly walked off the loading the chew up time. She went over to the door and leaned against the wall near it, waiting for it to open.

Eventually it did and Aneela was walking slowly. She was staring at the floor as she walked and her eyes showed she had been crying. Her face was full of guilt and her stance told Mira she regretted something. _Oh great_, Mira thought. _She's been through hell and I'm the only human female she can talk to. Now I'll get an earful of how she did something or whatever and I _knew_ I shouldn't've mixed work and friends. You start with cronyism and you will kill yourself_.

"I'm sorry I came to you," Aneela said. "You don't seem to be one of those heart-to-heart kind of person." She hung her head. "So what's the trouble?" Mira asked. Aneela had yet to point out what she'd done or didn't do.

Aneela looked at Mira with guilt in them. "If this is about Atton…" she stared. The eyes gave her away. "Is it really? Did you guys _finally_ have a moment?" she asked. Aneela did a mild reel of shock at this query. "What do you mean by finally?" Aneela asked. "You've got this bizarre tension between the two of you. It's like in the holovids where the guy and girl are in denial too much and in the end they get together. Trust me, I've seen too many of 'em," Mira said simply. "So now just stop crying and skip off into the sunset together."

"It's not that simple, Mira," Aneela said. "Why not?" Mira replied. "You've killed that weird old woman so what's the big deal? There's no galactic threat anymore so you're in the clear." "No, there's not," Aneela said quietly. "There's more coming, Mira—an armada. A Sith army." Mira laughed—she actually laughed at this. _How can she laugh_? Aneela wondered. "We've fought the Sith already," she said. "How can they come back?" "They are," Aneela said.

"But how do you know?" Mira asked, realizing that she was being completely and deadly serious. "Revan left to fight them," Aneela responded. "So…? Revan took out the Mandalorians, so I think she's fit to fight off another tyrannical figure without the Republic. Last time I checked, she saved _their_ skins in the Mandalorian Wars," Mira said. "And besides, what does it matter do you? You've done your part. You don't need redemption or anything fancy like that because you were always with the good guys, right? It's not like you were some kind of Sith Lord in a previous life or anything like that. It's not like you didn't do anything you need to answer for."

"I'm leaving to help Revan," Aneela said, unscathed by what Mira just stated. "Did you hear what I just said!" Mira asked, increasing the volume of her normal tone. "Don't you get it? How can you help Revan? She—she was a _Sith Lord_ with basically unstoppable powers! You don't have that." "Are you saying I'm not strong enough to go?" Aneela said, taking this as an insult. "No," Mira defended. "I'm just saying that you don't have enough strength to go. I mean, Revan has to answer for what she did and saving the galaxy three times will pretty much answer for everything she's done. You—you've done nothing wrong." "Besides, we need you here," she quietly added after settling.

"_We need you here"? Who is "we"?_ Aneela thought. "I have to go." "But _why_?" Mira asked. "It doesn't make sense. You're going to follow Revan? You don't even know where she is—nobody does!" "I've got a good idea," Aneela said.

Mira gave a laugh again—but it was the kind of laugh you do when you know someone is doing something stupid after working hard for something else, they sacrifice their hard work for something else. "You don't get it, do you?" she asked Aneela. "Are you _that_ oblivious?" Aneela gave her a quizzical look. "Do you have any idea what you'll do to him if you leave?" Mira said. "Do you know how long it will take him to recover from this?"

Aneela sighed. "And that's why I wanted to talk to you…I brought it upon him _and_ myself." "Just stay," Mira said. "Revan is strong enough to fight off whatever's coming." _Stop this friend stuff_, Mira's mind told her. _She's ditching you too_. "So—so just do whatever you want," she concluded. "Bao-Dur was smart to leave when he did. He was spared this overly dramatic leave of yours. Just tell the crew you're going tomorrow and then leave at noon." She shrugged. "Hell, maybe you could even leave a week later. Just…just don't kill them all too much. Truth is, we're all kinda indebted to you for this whole Jedi thing. Just don't make us regret this, okay?" Aneela nodded. "Okay." Mira turned to go but added a final addendum: "When you're fighting off, well, whatever you're fighting off, remember us here—fighting for what you taught us."

_You've achieved emotional enlightenment_, Mira thought as she proceeded up the boarding ramp for the Ebon Hawk. Aneela stood where she was, Mira's words echoing inside her brain: _…remember us here—fighting for what you taught us._ What did she teach them? Love, peace, and the Force? Patience, compassion, and mercy? Puzzled, she proceeded out of the docking bay's doors.

Aneela proceeded out of the docking bay after Mira had disappeared onto the Ebon Hawk. She shook her head. _Why did I walk to talk to Mira of all people_? She thought. _Maybe I should talk to Atton again…_ She was amazed she didn't discard this thought, but actually think that it might be a good solution to whatever was bugging her.

"_So just stop crying and skip off into the sunset together." _Would she ever do that? _Can _I_ stop this thing before my head explodes_? She wondered. Aneela rounded the corner to get out of the Republic embassy and outside into the bright sunlight.

She squinted as she walked onwards, not having any idea what she was doing or where she was going at all. _You will regret this_, her head told her. _Talk to him, tell him something—anything. This tension, in denial thing is getting a bit tiresome. Either you love him or you don't._ She stopped and sighed. _The only question is if the answer is yes or no._

She spun round and set herself at a face paced walk, weaving through knots of people. She had a destination. It was the cantina.

Thoughts bombarded her brain as she made her way to the cantina door. _What are you afraid of? He didn't reject your kiss—you pulled away_, she thought. As she pushed opened the door, she came to no realizations but that she was afraid of something she shouldn't be. The cantina was a dingy and packed.

She made her way over to the bar and looked for the characteristic robes Atton was wearing. They made him stand out. She scanned each man; they had the same stance: hunched over their shots of Juma, taking one after the next. They were there to wash their problems down their throat. The problems would be things like wives, children, jobs, credit shortage, wars, and the like. Each man had a different depression vibe coming from him which was a bit interesting to Aneela.

She saw Atton among sulkers. He was leaning over his Juma, and she saw him take another shot and slap the cup down on the table. He reached onto his belt and pulled a few credits for another shot. _Don't they get sick of Juma after awhile_? She wondered as she walked over to the line of men.

She stopped about a half a meter behind him. _Courage is something you've got; you've defeated Kreia! Not just kill this unrest inside of you._ She studied him for a second and decided a surprise attack would be the best to wake him from his Juma sickness. It seemed the men, with Juma, went into a dreamy stage of mind that women could not achieve. Women were always busy, too busy to sulk and drink Juma. The only women were sipping Juma with friends, or sitting alone with a shot but not sulking like the men were. There were many men with friends and girlfriends and wives also, but the depressed men at the bar made Aneela feel saddened.

She calmed her mind by remembering what Mira had told her. Aneela extended a shaking hand to put on Atton's shoulder. When she laid it there, he almost jumped out of his skin. He turned to look at her. "Hey," she said.

"Hey…" he said, not out of the Juma hypnosis. "Come with me," she said as she guided him. Aneela took his hand for reassurance. She led him out of the bar area to an area of the cantina where a crowd was.

"Here?" he asked, studying his surroundings. _She looks scared_, Atton thought. _She looks like hell—and this is partially your fault._ "Yeah, here," Aneela said. There was a brief silence where both were thinking and both were afraid.

"What happened between us," Aneela started. "Was a mistake?" Atton said, almost as if he knew the answer. She stared at him. "Why would you think that?" she asked. "Well, maybe because _you_ pulled away," he said. "I…didn't know what I was doing—what we were doing," Aneela said, her eyes full of guilt. "I knew that I wanted to. It's just…I remembered that I had to leave and I didn't want to break your heart so much you'd be just the shell of a broken man, only upheld by the promise I gave you of a return. I wanted you to be more than that—and I felt feelings of love and regret at the same time when I kissed you." She looked into his eyes. _Say it. Say what you feel_. "And I still want to."

She was helpless. _She looks so—so much like you used to: lost and alone. She's taken that and thrown it away. It's your debt now, so pay up, _he thought. She looked expectant. _Will you say what you feel like she did, or gloss over this with a cynical joke? Will you tell the truth, or will you hide behind yourself—again?_ His brain exploded that moment. He couldn't take it. "Me…" he stammered. He was whispering now; it was as if his reputation could be soiled if anyone heard him talk now. "Me too." _Was that so hard?_ His mind asked. "Me too," he repeated, still in a whispery voice.

_He loves you too_, was the immediate thought Aneela had in her head. She forgot about Mical, the journey ahead of her, and everything else except what Mira said:

"…_skip off into the sunset together."_

Their eyes locked for a second. As if something in her awakened, Aneela put her hands on Atton's face. As she slowly pulled him towards her, she said only one thing: "I love you too."

* * *

Mical poked at the meat with his fork. He was in the Republic mess hall, eating with the soldier. Aneela wasn't at the Ebon Hawk and he was worried about her. He'd wanted to tell her of all the new things he'd learned. Much of this new knowledge consisted of planets and the paths of the old wars from the past. Mical was planning to start a project on the Jedi Civil War and try to analyze its events and get past rumor and find truth; that was his favorite thing to do.

He always loved making new discoveries and finding out new things based on his own intellect. He always loved sharing the new discoveries even more. He didn't attempt to try to explain his findings to Mira or Atton, for they didn't understand anything but their own lives. He didn't bother explaining it to Visas because she always scared Mical. He never knew what to say to her. He did once explain how Tatooine was a thriving planet by the moisture vaporizer farming. Mandalore disagreed by saying he'd seen it once already: it was full of nothing but Sand People, dunes, and a few krayt dragons.

Mical was always fascinated by krayt dragons. He once held a krayt dragon pearl, and even felt how precious it was just by touch. It was a smooth spherical wonder that he wanted to call his own, but it belonged to a rich Republic sponsor for whom he was studying crops.

He loved being part of the Republic and analyzing its data. He always tried to remain humble, but being referred to as the man you came to when you needed something studied or sorted out inflated his small ego. He didn't want to have one, but he knew all people had one buried deep inside of them. _Too bad some people's are bigger than others_, he thought as he picked up the meat and chewed it a bit.

He swallowed the meat and reached in his bag for his notebook. He pulled out a pen and began to organize his thoughts. He had scribbles, sketches, and notes everywhere on the page around the regular notes in the center of the page. The pages were filled up to maximum capacity and looked like he'd taken a long time to figure things out. He opened in his notebook to a tab labeled "Twi'lek". He surveyed the double-spaced notes taken from a book written in the Twi'lek tongue. He read a few words and then wrote the English translation.

The book was about the Twi'lek culture and way of life on various planets. He was busy translating several notes when a soldier approached him. "Excuse me, are you Mical?" the Republic soldier asked Mical.

Mical looked up. "Yes." "One of the doctors in the medbay said to come get you," the soldier said. "We've got a problem." Mical looked stern. "What is exactly the problem?" he asked. "I don't know, sir," the soldier said. "Dr. Ganda said to come and fetch you." "Alright," he said as he packed up his things. "I'll be coming."

The Republic soldier waited for Mical to get his things in his pack, take another bite of meat before returning the plate to the dish pile, and leave with him.

As they neared the medbay, Mical wondered what the problem was. He was called only twice. The first time it was for a repair job of the diagnosis system and the second it was to help in a surgery because they were short a man.

They neared the medbay doors and Mical pushed past a crowd of civilians. _What are they doing here_? He wondered as he neared the front desk. "Good," the receptionist said. "You're here. Room 27." She gave him clearance into the rooms and he proceeded to the door.

He opened it to see a woman with blonde hair lying on a bed. She was about twenty-five or so and was cut everywhere. Mical wanted to sprint away in horror—she was an airspeeder victim. His training classes flashes in his mind as he automatically reached for the consoles and began typing to see her diagnosis. It was an almost replicated situation.

He sighed as he put on the gloves and began to quickly do a visual inspection. Her ribs appeared broken, she had a concussion, and her legs appeared broken. Her arms appeared to be at least sprained or fractured, and one shoulder dislocated. He couldn't image her pain if they hadn't injected her with about six meds.

He looked at the door for a second and then suggested actions that needed to be taken to assure her recovery. He took her hand and said, "You're going to make it." _But I'm still not sure you will_, he thought as he let her hand to go recollect himself mentally outside.

* * *

Mandalore admired the Ordo blaster as he saw Coruscant disappear into a subtle tan dot. He was going back to Dxun. He didn't bother with goodbyes—he just left a message with Mira.

He told her, since she was with the Hawk, to tell Aneela that if she ever needed something, just to call on him. Mira seemed a bit sad to see him leave, but he brushed it off. _Parting ways again, aren't you_? A voice said to him. His helmet was on, and the passengers on the transport gave him stares every so often.

The transport went into hyperspace and Mandalore felt his right arm beginning to feel arthritis when he flexed it. He opened up his large bag full of syringes again and took off his helmet. He injected himself in the artery, which grossed out a few secret spectators. He didn't bother to put the helmet back on; he just closed his eyes and began to think.

The transport would be at least five hours and there was nothing to do to cure the boredom except battle plans. Mandalore pulled out an old leather bound book that brought memories back.

It was a gift from no one other than Mission Vao. It was her departing present to him, since she gave everyone else one. She said that he could write down all of his war stories in there. He pushed those times away and focused on what he was writing:

_Operation Focus: Training New Recruits_

_Location: Dxun_

_Procedure/Notes: Release recruits in Dxun jungle with a map, compass, and virbroblade. Whoever returns first will gain the highest honor, second the higher honor, and so forth. This will establish a system that will make the recruits not only compete, but gain some common sense that many lack. Battle ring will be an option to the top five, and there will be a "novice battle ring" and the champion of that will be the lowest of the battle ring. Title of higher battle ring is Prestige Class Battle Circle. Competition builds. Have stimulants for all recruits and record performance then take them off stimulants and record performance. Set Kex to this assignment. _

_Accomplish: Get scanner systems back up, train recruits with vibroblades, strategize battle tactics and aims for galactic domination again. _

He continued to write down a to-do list of things like assigning someone to a new post or getting rid of the shop that was run there at the base. He would just have the troops come to him for supplies. He wanted to fix up the basilisk war droid so he could use again. He enjoyed giving Aneela the chance to experience the ride.

He continued to write until his hand hurt and he was out of things to put on the paper. He stared round the ship: children were on their parent's laps, couples sat closer together, strangers were silent to each other. The scene was good for no observing, and Mandalore got bored with the lack of conversation. _At least on Coruscant there was always the cantina_, he mused as he rummaged through the stimulant bag again to find a tranquilizer. He loaded enough to make him sleep for five hours and injected it in his neck. He put on his helmet and attached the stims back onto his waist. Mandalore's eyes began to get heavy under his helmet and he slept.


	9. I Take My Leave & A Visitor

The sun was rising on Coruscant as Aneela was standing by the G-wing single passenger ship. She stared out at the sun; she couldn't look at her companions.

Visas had left the day before to a transport to a planet near where Katarr was so she could finally go and seek the peace she wanted for so long. She said a simple goodbye and left. Aneela knew her leave wouldn't be that simple, although she wished it was.

She sensed Mical, Mira, and Atton standing behind her. She knew their plans: Mical was going to travel back and forth to Telos and Coruscant to give his medical skills and studies to whoever needs it. He told her that he was going to make the republic stronger, and help the galaxy in any way he could. She remembered the begging in his eyes that told her to stay.

Mira was going back on Nar Shadda on a transport in a few hours around noon. She knew that Mira would miss her, and that not all of Mira was emotionless as she wanted people to think she was. Mira needed Nar Shadda—it was her home and it beckoned just as Iridonia called Bao-Dur.

Atton would want to stay on Coruscant, but she knew Mira would drag Atton back to Nar Shadda with her. She'd give him an safe house and offer Mical housing if he ever came to Nar Shadda, but she doubted he ever will. Mira knew what she was doing: she served with the Mandalorians in the Wars and was smarter than she appeared. Plus her training with Visas made her even more stronger in combat and in mind. She seemed wiser.

Aneela couldn't shake them from her head no matter how hard she tried or how much she wanted to; she could feel their stares boring into her back.

Just then, a soldier came up to her. "Miss," he said, "we need the loading dock and my commanding officer requests you move your transport within the hour—we're expecting another ship." She nodded, not looking up at the soldier. "Thank you," he said. She knew he saluted and heard him walk off. _If only I could walk away_, she thought. _But you need to aid Revan. You need to help and do whatever you can for this galaxy…this galaxy you scarred, saved, and need to save once more,_ she thought as she heard the soldier's footsteps fade.

She began to turn_. This is it_. Slowly she strode over to the group of what was left of their crew of ten, what was left of her Padawans. _They look so…defeated, like they are going to be executed_, Aneela observed. Her mind flashed back:

"_Please, don't come tomorrow," Aneela had said. "Why?" Atton objected. "Because…you shouldn't see me like this—leaving you," she said. He took her hands. "No," he said. "I'm going to finish it."_

She didn't get what "I'm going to finish it" meant, but she let him come anyways.

"_Aneela…you must let someone—_anyone_—come with you. It seems dangerous where you are going," Mical told her. "I have go to alone," she said. "Just like Revan did…" "But _please_, at least tell me where you're going," he said. "Exactly where you're going." Aneela looked at the floor. "I can't," she said, "because even _I_ don't know where I'm going."_

She remembered closing her eyes; Aneela just couldn't look Mical in the eye anymore.

"_You know, you don't have to do this. Hell, you've given enough," Mira said. "Why are you going, anyways?" "Revan hasn't returned," Aneela responded. "So I'm going to…" She stopped. "To what? Aid? Stop? Kill?" Mira suggested finishing fragments. "I don't know," Aneela said, staring off into space._

She pushed the memories aside as she walked over to Mira. "Take care of yourself, kid," she said as they hugged. "I will," Aneela said. "I promise." _Will I even be able to_? She wondered. _Or will this just turn into another one of those stupid disasters_?

Mira looked a bit tired: her hair was a bit messy and her belt was sideways. Her lightsaber was lopsided and her robes were tied wrong. "You look tired," Aneela remarked. "Not enough sleep…uncomfortable beds," Mira lied. _She looks terrible_, Aneela thought. _Just leave now and stop these overly tense goodbyes._

She next stepped over to Mical—the blonde doctor who had saved her life. She remembered that bow on Dantooine where she was both shocked at his chivalrous display and scared a bit that he might be a psychotic wonder boy wannabe. Luckily he hadn't pushed himself too much at her which was nice. Sometimes he suffocated her, but it was by things too complex for her to even comprehend.

"I'll see you soon," she said. "That I promise you." She put a hand on his shoulder. "You will help and be the future." She looked into his eyes. "I know it." She gave him a hug and said before moving onwards, "Good luck, Mical." _Why can't this be over_? She wondered.

She moved to Atton. _Why does he have to be now_? She asked herself. _Why can't he be "never"_? She said nothing but quickly embraced him in a strong hug. It lasted for a few seconds. "I will come back for you. I promise," were the only words she said. He didn't say anything, like Mical.

She pulled away from him and began to walk when he grasp her hand. "When?" he asked quietly. She turned and looked into his brown eyes that had a melancholy look in them that she couldn't bear to see. "Soon," she said in the most reassuring voice she could muster. She slipped a Pazaak card into Atton's hand. "I'll be right here with you playing Pazaak," she whispered so only he could hear it and walked towards the ship.

She turned didn't look back to see their faces. But she did it anyways just before going onto the ship. She turned to see Mira, Mical, and Atton raise hands in a wave. Aneela waved goodbye back to them for some reason she didn't know.

Aneela wanted to run back and throw herself in Atton's arms and hear Mical talk about boring concepts she didn't understand and hear Mira brag about being a bounty hunter on Nar Shadda at that moment. Resisting that was one of the hardest things ever.

She boarded and watched their faces as she activated the launch procedures of the ship. They were still staring at her, and watched her leave. Mical turned to leave, but the two stayed. The Disciple slowly walked away, knowing he'd see her again in years—and those years would be a struggle. _"You will sit on the new council…"_ Her words echoed inside of his mind. _You will do this not only for her, but for everything she is fighting for,_ he told himself as he exited the landing pad.

Atton was still staring at the ship as it disappeared off Coruscant. He stared at it a few minutes after it left. "Atton…" Mira started. "We've gotta go."

"Yeah…um, right. The ship to Nar Shadda…" he said, knowing no amount of Juma can cure this disease. "Where's the Ebon Hawk going?" He was still staring at the sky. "The Republic wants it for some reason." Mira put her hand on his shoulder; he ignored it. "The droids?" "They're staying too." She looked at him. "Atton…we've got to go."

He was kicked out of his daze. "Oh…right," he said. He slipped the Pazaak card into his pocket. "You—you just go on ahead. I've got to get my stuff off the Hawk," he said. "Okay," Mira said. "Meet met outside its docking bay, okay?" He nodded and waited until she was gone.

He then reached into his pocket and pulled out the card. It was a normal card except for the words scribbled on it: "I love you, Atton, and I'm coming back for you. Love, Aneela." He stared at it, then at the sky, and left the landing pad.

* * *

Traffic on Citadel Station was minimal at the peak hours of the night—some ships sped past the window of Apartment C14. The small apartment had a bed, a few chairs, a desk, and a dresser.

Carth Onasi rolled over on his bed to face to window and watch the small amounts of traffic go by. Telos was saved once, and he was glad it was. But that was four years ago. He felt a twinge of arthritis in his arm as he moved it. _That new implant helps_, he thought as he remembered all the pain he had before. He got arthritis young, but luckily the implants had an affect on him.

He stared around at the empty apartment: assorted books and papers were strewn across the desktop but were still neat and orderly in their own way. The dresser's top was empty, but the drawers were filled with men's clothes mostly, except for the untouched top drawer which was female's.

Carth rolled over again on his back and stared at the ceiling. His mind always wandered to Revan, despite it had been eight—or was it nine?—years since her leave. He'd forgotten the exact day she left, and was glad he did. _I wonder how she's faring,_ he would often think. _When she comes back, I'm going to do something special for her. Maybe one of those fancy dinners_? His mind would then wander to possibilities and the scenario would play in his head. There were too many to remember, put on paper, or even tell anybody without them forgetting one or two.

Then there was a knock at his door. _I'm not surprised_, he thought as he threw the covers off him. Sometimes the TSF would wake him up because he was needed for various reasons. Grenn couldn't handle every single situation and Carth was usually called in at night since Grenn was busy during the day. "I'm coming," he said as he went over to the dresser's middle drawer and pulled out the shirt to his officer's uniform. The Cross of Glory and a few other medals clinked; he stared at the Cross of Glory.

Revan had left him hers when she left in the middle of the night. She knew he'd want something of hers to hold onto, so she left him that. A piece was chipped off, but he didn't care. He always carried it with him, and now was no exception. He pulled on the shirt, and put Revan's Cross of Glory in a pocket. He pulled on a pair of pants and his boots.

The person knocked again. "Alright," he said. "I'm coming." Carth quickly skimmed through pages of papers on the desktop and threw the important looking ones in the TSF booklet he was supposed to take with him when he went to the security office.

He picked up the book and walked pas the mirror and noticed his face—it had aged in the last eight years and he could see a few grays. _I'm getting older by the second_, he thought as he tried to brush his brown hair over the grays; it failed. _To hell with it_, he told himself as he picked up the book and opened the door.

But it wasn't a Republic soldier at the door. It was a fairly skinny woman wearing ripped robes. Her hair was shoulder length, and looked like it had been sliced with a vibroblade it was so uneven. He then saw her eyes and recognized her right away: it was Revan.

He dropped the TSF book and couldn't speak. _She's here_! His mind exploded with joy and questions. "Revan…" he breathed. It was the only thing he could say. He was immobilized by shock, and knew whatever else he could say would come out as an inaudible mutter.

She gave him something that seemed to be a half-nod and immediately kissed him with eight years of emotion. It lasted for what seemed forever. The lights flooding the dark apartment didn't affect them at all; the empty hallway suited them perfectly.

She moved him back into the empty apartment, closing the door behind her. "I'm sorry," she said in between kisses, "I took so long." "It's," Carth said, "fine." _It's just you_, he thought. _It doesn't matter anymore._

_

* * *

_

_Author's Note_: Sorry that I kind of messed this one up. After reading the last few chapters, I've only thought "This has gone downhill." Whether you like it or think it sucked out loud really matters to me... :). Sorry if I totally messed this one up. I just wanted to finish a bit quickly, so the ending is rushed meaning it's terrible. :(. I didn't really like this one anymore because I think I started to ruin it a few chapters ago. Apologies to the abrputness and severe poorness of the ending. I'm going to one last chapter—a short epilogue. Thanks for reading, I really liked writing up until a few chapters ago, but I still liked to write it even though I didn't like the finished product a lot! Thanks for the great reviews and support.

Darth Spock


	10. Epilogue

_Hm, this Juma tastes pretty good_, a young Twi'lek of about twenty-two thought as she sipped a cup of Juma Juice from a cantina that had just moved near her brother's droid shop and swoop garage. She heard people in the garage, and knew that she had to go see what they were doing or what they wanted.

One was a woman—a black haired girl with brown eyes. Her hair was up and she was wearing Jedi robes. _Funny_, she mused. _Thought the Jedi were gone…_ The other person was a guy with dark hair and brown eyes. His hair was side parted and he was wearing robes too. _Huh_! She figured they were dating, but she remembered that Jedi didn't have "emotional attachments" or whatever the fancy Jedi name was for relationships.

"You Mission Vao?" the girl asked, admiring an accelerator for a swoop bike. The Twi'lek crossed her arms. "Maybe," she said. "Alright then," the girl said. "Now that we've got the right person—" "Wait." Mission said. "What are you doing here?" The girl shrugged. "Delivering a message," she said simply. "Oh, I'm Aneela and that's Atton."

Mission gave them a quizzical look. Atton was looking at some salvaged droid parts. "Yeah, we bring our regards from Revan." Mission looked at him; she was gaping. _Mercena's alive! I thought she died a long time ago_, she thought, absolutely bewildered.

"You didn't know she left?" Aneela asked. "She left about nine years ago." Mission nodded, unable to speak. _She was alive…_! "How do you know Mercena?" Mission asked. She, ever since the revelation on the Leviathan when she was just fourteen, had never been able to call Mercena by her true name, Revan. Even though she'd gotten her redemption, "Mercena" brought back happier memories and thoughts.

"Who?" Aneela asked. "It was Mer—Revan's old name," Mission said. _Shifting to calling her Revan will be hard_, she thought. "Anyways, she wanted me to ask you to go to Telos. Apparently she's reuniting the company," Aneela said. _Reuniting the company! _Mission was full of excitement. _This means I'll get to see everybody again. I wonder what they've done, where they've been…_

"Wait," she said, "why didn't Mercena just tell me?" Aneela looked at her. "I live here," she said, "with Atton." He grinned at that statement. _Why is he smiling like he's hyped up on spice_? Mission wondered. "But how do you know her?" she asked. "I fought with her, like you did," Aneela said. "And we hard to part ways, like you did." The memory of first hearing those words came back to her.

"We're heading to Telos in a few days," Atton chimed in, "and you can come with us if you'd like." Mission gave him a quizzical look. "But how do _you_ know her—and Mercena?" she asked. Aneela laughed a little and said, "We'll tell you on the way."

* * *

Bao-Dur watched Telos come into view: Citadel Station was a grey patch on the planet's brown and green surface. _My destination_, he thought. The planet evoked old memories; the defeat of Czerka, with Aneela's help of course, was the memory he loved.

Iridonia had its call on him years ago. He had settled in and began to help the planet reconstruct itself. He'd worked on building freighters and operating ships. Now, as a passenger on one of his own ships, he watched Telos grow bigger and bigger. He knew what he'd find on it, and was anxious the reach it.

He stood and walked past a few passengers; they stared at his arm. _Half man, half machine_, he chuckled to himself. To get to Telos, he'd hopped a freighter to Onderon and took this transport to Citadel Station.

His eyes were heavy as he thought of memories since hadn't slept well in the last few years. He was worried about a lot of things. His Remote wasn't dysfunctional yet, which surprised him. It beeped a bit. "We're almost there," he told it quietly. The Remote beeped again and Bao-Dur sat down to catch a few minutes of sleep before they landed.

"Now approaching Citadel Station…" the pilot said over the intercom. Bao-Dur's eyes were slightly open as he saw the grey of the transport. He looked out the window: Telos was a lot bigger than it was before and they'd be landing shortly. He'd see the crew again.

He exited the ship after about fifteen minutes of waiting for the crowds to exit and for the ship to land. "Let's go," he told his Remote; it followed faithfully. He exited off the loading ramp to see the Telos Security Force stationed everywhere. _They've certainly taken this place a few steps up since I was last here,_ he observed as he proceeded to the airlock.

Outside the airlock were a few families of humans and aliens greeting people coming home. Bao-Dur looked both directions for Aneela or at least someone who looked familiar. No one was in sight. _Maybe at the TSF office_? He wondered as he walked up to a TSF officer. "Where's the TSF office?" he asked. "Entertainment Module 081—or at least I'm guessing that's where you want to go," the officer said. Bao-Dur nodded and walked out of the hallway of airlock doors.

He came up to the waiting area was where a lot of people were awaiting a ship of some kind to either take them somewhere or to bring someone here. _Entertainment Module 081,_ Bao-Dur repeated to himself so he wouldn't forget. "Remember that, alright?" he told his Remote. It beeped happily and followed Bao-Dur as he walked.

Bao-Dur walked a bit past the cantina, which was overrun, and thought he'd check in there. He stepped past large crowds. _Telos is strangely overpopulated or the cantina is now serving free Juma_, he thought.

"Hey," a female voice said behind him. "You lost, Iridonian?" He turned to see Aneela, the General, grinning at him. His expression said, "I'll be damned": his mouth was partially open, probably because he hadn't seen her in years. Her hair was a bit grey already! _Good thing I haven't got any_, he thought as he itched one of the spikes on his head.

"General?" he asked. Her posture was different but he recognized her nonetheless: despite her hair was a bit greyer and her Jedi robes hit most of her figure, he recognized her. _She hasn't changed much_, he thought, _but at the same time she seems totally different_.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Waiting for you," she said. "We're meeting everyone at the TSF office." She grinned. "And conveniently I wanted to get some Juma." "Then let's go," he said, "because it's a little crowded." She nodded and took his mechanical hand. "I'm glad you could come," she said and gave him a hug.

* * *

…_and Mical told me that he was getting married in a few months to a brunette girl he'd met through the hospital job. He's now a senator. He seemed to light up tonight in no way I've ever seen him before. It was like he was complete, whole. Maybe it was the Juma? Oh hell, just believe that he's having a good time in his life finally. He said his project for the Republic is complete, and that it's going to be published as a book (finally!) in a few months to a year. Even though Kreia said that he'll never stop loving you, it seems he has. Maybe her prophecies weren't all accurate…_

_Mira came luckily; I thought she wouldn't. She says that she's out of the bounty hunting loop now and is trying to teach self defense classes on Nar Shadda. She told me, rather jokingly, that she uses her Force powers for all sorts of things: for stray bounty hunters, for making her Juma a bit more satisfying, and—well, you get it. I'm glad she's finally found herself at least. She always seemed restless and angry, but now I think she's better than before._

_G0-T0 didn't really come, and I didn't really expect him to or want him to come, if I'm brutally honest. He said something about going back to Nar Shadda, but that's the last I heard of him. I remember Bao-Dur saying that he was really well put together, but that he didn't want to have a droid that functional. "I would get bored," I believe is what he said to me._

_HK-47…what a lot to tell. Turns out he's Revan's old droid. I gave HK-47 back to her, and she seemed strangely pleased to have her droid back. I don't really understand why, although I did appreciate his occasional humor._

_I told T3-M4 that he could go with Bao-Dur back to Iridonia, stay with Revan, or be sold. Of course he didn't choose being sold, and he chose to go with Bao-Dur. I know he'll be a good droid there and Bao-Dur seems to love that little droid a lot. Atton doesn't really like droids, so he won't hang around the apartment in Nar Shadda long. _

_Visas came for a short while. She stayed the entire time, but it doesn't seem like she was thinking about this. I haven't seen her give a full grin, but I _did_ see her smile when I first saw her and she saw me with the Force. I still don't know how Miralukas see with the Force, but I'm sure I'll never know. She told me that she finally got peace at Katarr, like Kreia said she would. She told me that she's also going to travel around the galaxy kind of like I did. She's going to the Outer Rim and then take a freighter back to the Core Worlds. She's going to travel and teach as many as possible the ways of the Jedi._

_Mandalore showed up, although I didn't expect him too. He seemed different from the person I knew. He was happier it seemed, and he talked with Revan a lot. He took off his helmet, and seemed happy to see everyone. He's the only person who knows everybody, too. He says the Dxun camp is going well, and that the recruits are all right. He didn't explain a lot, because he knows not to reveal too much._

_Members of Revan's company that were present were Mission Vao, Jolee Bindo, Zaalbar, and Bastila Shan. A Cathar named Juhani would've been there, but Revan couldn't contact her. She searched Dantooine but couldn't find her anywhere. Revan told me she thought she went into hiding because she was grieving for her friend, and what Revan believed to be her love, Belaya, who apparently died on the attack on the Jedi enclave all those years ago. All of them were wearing a Cross of Glory—even Mandalore. He never told me anything about fighting for the Republic, but then again he seemed way too complicated and like he'd even seen more than I did. Carth Onasi was there with Revan, and he seemed as though he was a supernova: he's just been an explosion of happiness ever since Revan came back about a year ago._

"Aneela?' a voice whispered in the dark. "Hang on," she said.

_There really wasn't that much to say to them except a bit of standard table talk. We seem like long-lost family somehow, but strangers at the same time. _

A Pazaak card hit the back of her head. Aneela grinned and laughed silently to herself.

_Well, as soldiers say, "duty calls". Yeah, sounds lame._

_Signed,_

_Aneela_

"What?" she said to the darkness. "Since when do you have a diary?" Atton asked, throwing another card at her. She heard him sipping Juma. "Since now," she said as she used the Force to knock his Juma all over him. "_Hey_," he said. "Acts such as this lead to the darkside." "Oh yeah?" she said. "We'll just see..." And at that moment she realized her future was brighter than the explosion of a plasma grenade.

* * *

Final Addendum: This really wasn't a short epilogue, was it? Oh well. . Hope it's epiloge-y enough. I'm probably going to start another KotOR fanfic. I've already got an idea of what I want the story to be, I just need to plan it out a little better than this one. (I just kinda went crazy and ended up not liking it). Thanks for all the reviews and support...even if it wasn't really support until Chapter 9. I really liked writing this fic. (It's my first real fanfic). 

Thanks again!

> Darth Spock


End file.
